


Vidi, Vici...Veni.

by MyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Crack, Disney songs as love scenes, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Language, M/M, Murder, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Violence, You know the usual stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 59,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDesign/pseuds/MyDesign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Will survive the fall from the cliff and begin their new lives together as Murder Husbands. Here there be crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I.

**Author's Note:**

> Overly flowery descriptions, fancy words that no one really bothers to look up, a title in another language, convenient murder houses and medical training, long metaphors and comparisons to blood...so many comparisons to blood. Yes, this is a post-season 3 finale Hannigram fic...but not like the others. In my want to write my own post-Wrath of the Lamb fic, I realized that it's all been done...and everything I write is ridiculous.
> 
> So I did it anyways.
> 
> Don't get me wrong, I eat up post-WotL Hannigram fics like they're candy. Delicious candy made from tasty tasty humans. This is just my take on the ideas.
> 
> There will be crack. Probably a lot of it.

 

 

CHAPTER I

 

Will pulled them over the edge of the cliff and the world disappeared around them, nothing below but the frothing black of the Atlantic Ocean. The air around them felt thick, thick like blood. Time and their fall felt slowed, almost suspended in the thickness of the blood in the air. The wind rushed past Will, but all he felt was the man in his arms. And the blood. He felt that too. But mainly, he felt Hannibal.

 

After what felt like a lifetime of choices and regrets and decisions, Will and Hannibal plunged into the waves below. The water looked black in the moonlight, black like the blood had looked black. So much blood, so much black, all over, everywhere. Will tasted blood, felt blood, smelled blood. He didn't struggle, ready to let the blood of the ocean envelop him in its warmth and finality.

 

Except this blood wasn't warm, it was cold. Really cold. Son of a _bitch_ , was it cold!

 

"Son of a _bitch_!" Will shouted, thrashing his arms as his head broke the surface. As if insulted that this small man was unappreciative of the ocean's welcoming embrace, a large wave plucked Will out of the water and dropped him unceremoniously on a flat rock. Hannibal was close behind, coughing and sputtering in a most inelegant way.

 

"Will!" the older man exclaimed once he'd caught his breath, gripping him by the upper arms. "I was afraid you would be lost to the roiling Atlantic!"

 

"Well, that _was_ the plan," Will sighed. "I thought for sure we wouldn't survive that fall."

 

Hannibal let go of his arms, brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "Did you miss that whole conversation we had earlier about how the bluff was eroding?"

 

"I thought you were being metaphorical," Will admitted. "The bluff was the lie that I'd been telling myself and everyone, unable to admit who I really was inside and all that."

 

"Uh, no," Hannibal frowned. "I was talking about the land being washed away. It's a straight drop from the rocks into the water. I used to come cliff diving here on the weekends, Acapulco style."

 

"Well then shit," Will put his head in his hands. "I was really counting on that fall to kill us."

 

"Lucky for us, it didn't!" Hannibal laughed. "Can you imagine if we had died from falling off a cliff? After everything we've been through? Talk about anticlimactic! No, that's not nearly a grand enough death for these two murder husbands."

 

"Murder hu-" Will started to ask if Hannibal had read Freddie Lounds' article, but the other man was standing on the rock, waving his arms above his head at a light coming towards them on the water. It only took a few moments for the light to reveal a boat approaching on the waves. Will couldn't see who was piloting the boat, but two large round life rings were tossed to them from the deck.

 

Hannibal scooped the rings out of the water and handed one to the other man. "Come on, Will," he said, pulling the ring over his head and holding it under his armpits. "We've got a life to live!" he shouted as he cannonballed back into the water.

 

Will clutched the ring to his chest as he waded in carefully and let himself be pulled over the side of the boat and onto the deck. As the boat pulled out of the cove and accelerated along the coast, moonlight revealed the pilot to be Chiyoh, the collar of her black coat pulled tight around her ears.

 

Lying on his back on the deck, Will pulled the blanket Hannibal offered him around himself and let out a bitter laugh. "I should've guessed Chiyoh would be around here somewhere," he said. "Of course she wouldn't have moved on with her life in the last three years or anything."

 

Chiyoh looked at him with disgust, like he'd tracked mud across her brand new carpet and now she was stuck on her hands and knees scrubbing it clean, her shop vac cleaner unfortunately out for repairs. She offered no reply.

 

"She's like a cute little ninja, isn't she?" Hannibal ruffled her hair like the small child he pretended she was. "She's very protective of me."

 

"Yeah, we've established that," Will replied without amusement. As he lie on the floor of the boat, his adrenaline began to fade and he felt the overdue exhaustion and blood loss begin to creep up on him. "So now what?" he asked, closing his eyes.

 

"Now we go somewhere to tend to our wounds and decide our plan from there," Hannibal answered, finally showing a sign of weakness of his own as he held his side with one hand.

 

It was only a few minutes before Chiyoh pulled the boat into a dock, leaving the engine running and making no indication that she intended on going ashore.

 

"We're stopping already?" Will asked as Hannibal helped him to stand, confused. "Shouldn't we be trying to get as far away as we can?"

 

"We will," Hannibal answered as he stepped onto the dock, offering his hand to the other man to help him off the boat, "but we need to clean up and gather supplies first. I have a house nearby we can hide at for tonight."

 

"A house nearby?!" Will was taken aback. "We can't be more than ten miles from the other house!"

 

"One must always be prepared for every contingency, Will," Hannibal replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Turning to look at Chiyoh as she moved the boat into reverse, he called to her. "Thank you again, Chiyoh! I'll call you if we need anything." He gave her an enthusiastic double thumbs up.

 

She replied with an almost imperceptible smile at Hannibal then turned her gaze to Will, anger evident in her eyes. She pointed two fingers at her own eyes then directed them at Will, repeating the motion twice before smiling again at Hannibal and directing the boat away from pier.

 

"What a sweet girl," Hannibal mused with a smile, watching her leave. Turning his attention back to the man next to him, he clutched Will's arm and directed them off the dock and to a nearby road.

 

"Do you really have another house this close to the other one?" Will asked as they turned down a side street, the nearby houses and shops were thankfully dark and silent.

 

"I have houses all up and down the coast," Hannibal explained, "and at least one in every major city across the country." Seeing the confused expression on the other man's face, he added, "Always be prepared!"

 

They only had to travel a couple blocks before Hannibal was placing his thumb on a biometric lock on the front door of a large coastal home. He led Will through the darkness of the house and helped him sit in a hard-backed chair that Will could hardly even make out in the moonlight.

 

Once his hands were free of the other man, Hannibal clapped twice and the room was flooded with light. Will found himself seated in a chair at a large dining table. Through an open archway into the next room, he could see a plush seating area and a full size grand piano. This house might be even nicer than the one on the cliff.

 

"Geez, Hannibal," Will breathed, wondering just how rich the former psychiatrist actually was. "Are all of your houses this nice?"

 

Hannibal regarded him with an interested expression. "Of course, Will. One must always be comfortable in one's home, whether you stay there often or not." He started towards the adjoining kitchen. "Wait here, I'll bring things for cleaning our wounds."

 

Twenty minutes later, both men were seated at the table in only their underwear, most of the blood cleaned from their skin and their wounds stitched neatly. Will tongued the stitches in his cheek lightly. The knife had chipped a couple of his teeth, but at least none of them felt loose. All in all, both of them had come out of the fight relatively lucky. Hannibal's gunshot wound was the worst of his injuries, but the bullet had passed cleanly through, amazingly missing anything vital. Will had been shot in each of his shoulders before, so a mostly shallow stab wound was nothing.

 

"We'll stay here for the night," Hannibal said. "We can go to one of my more permanent residences tomorrow once we're rested."

 

Head on the table and too tired to move, Will briefly wondered what made any of Hannibal's houses more "permanent" than others. He didn't have a chance to ask before sleep overtook him.

 

===

 

Early the next morning, Will was awakened by a hand lightly shaking his shoulder and a voice softly repeating his name. He opened his eyes and grimaced at the bright sunlight streaming through the window and the pain in his neck from his awkward sleeping position at the table. He sat up and looked down to see an imprint of his face on the wooden surface and a rather impressive puddle of drool.

 

"You should get cleaned up," Hannibal said, handing him a juice box. "We need to get on the road soon. I left clothes for you in the bathroom."

 

Reluctantly pushing himself to a standing position, Will gave the other man a strange look as he took the small box of apple juice, green bendy straw already carefully in place. He let Hannibal lead him to the bathroom, where he cleaned up as best he could in the sink, choosing not to look at himself too closely in the mirror or think about how Hannibal happened to have clothes in Will's exact size ready for him.

 

Once Will was settled into the passenger seat of a black BMW sedan, he felt like he could sleep for three days straight. Hannibal, however, was energetic and practically bouncing in his seat as he pulled the car out of the garage.

 

"This is so exciting!" the older man said once they were heading south on the interstate, flashing a grin at Will. "Here we are. Just the two of us. On the road to a new life together. I'm so happy, I could sing!" Hannibal took a deep breath and started to belt out the opening lines to something very operatic and very Italian.

 

Will quickly put his hand on Hannibal's arm. "Sorry, but could you hold off on the singing for now?" he asked. "My head is killing me."

 

Hannibal stopped singing and looked at the hand on his arm. Placing his hand on top of Will's, he smiled at the other man. "Of course, my dear Will. You'll have to forgive me my excitement." He gestured towards the glove box then put his hand back on the wheel. "You should be able to find something for the pain in there," he said.

 

Will opened the compartment to find what could have passed for a well-stocked medicine cabinet, full of pain killers ranging from Advil to prescription narcotics. Choosing something strong (but not too strong), Will popped a couple pills and pulled on a pair of sunglasses that looked an awful lot like the ones he always wore at home.

 

"So where are we headed?" he asked as he reclined his seat and closed his eyes.

 

"I have a rather lovely home in Charleston that I always thought you might enjoy. View of the water, a wooded area with excellent fishing streams nearby, away from people, a nice yard for your dogs."

 

Will opened an eye. "You'll let me have dogs?"

 

Hannibal seemed taken aback. "Of course! I wouldn't ask you to be anything but yourself with me, fleet of dogs and all."

 

Will couldn't help but smile with the side of his face that _wasn't_ making his head feel like he had an ice pick embedded in his temple. "Thank you, Hannibal."

 

"I thought we could name one Abigail, of course," Hannibal said. "Unless you think it's too soon? Is it too soon? It has been three years, but I know how you can dwell on things." He frowned, wondering if he shouldn't have brought it up. "You said you forgave me for that, but I know it's a sore spot and I don't want you to resent me, I only did what I felt I had to do and what was best for you, I hope you understand that..." he began to ramble.

 

"Hannibal," Will interrupted. "Hannibal, it's fine. We can talk about dog names later." Really all he wanted to do right now was sleep.

 

Hannibal looked uneasy for a moment before smiling again. "Ok! Later then!" He started humming happily as he drove.

 

===

 

When Will opened his eyes next, a glance at the clock showed that it was early afternoon and they were still on the road. His stomach growled rather loudly and cartoonishly as he moved his seat back to an upright position.

 

Hannibal gave him an amused smile and a chuckle. "Perfect timing," he said. "I was just getting rather hungry myself."

 

A quick stop at a drive-thru and they were back on the road, Big Mac sauce dripping down Hannibal's hand and onto the napkins he had carefully tucked into his charcoal sweater and laid across his black dress pants. Shoving the last bite into his mouth and licking his fingers clean, he eyed Will's french fries. "Are you going to finish those?" he asked, hopeful.

 

"Huh? Oh, by all means." Will sat his container of fries in Hannibal's empty one, taking a drink from his Coke. "Mind if we listen to the radio?" he asked. "I'm curious what they're saying about us."

 

Hannibal pushed a dial and scanned through the stations until he found one that came in and was conveniently just starting the news report.

 

" _A nationwide manhunt_ ," it began, " _has been deemed unnecessary by the police and FBI. Hannibal Lecter, the convicted serial killer and cannibal who escaped from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane last night, and Will Graham, a former FBI profiler who may or may not be an accomplice of Lecter's, have been declared 'probably dead' by local authorities. A spokesperson for the FBI had this to say_ :"

 

A new, unfamiliar voice spoke. " _We followed the GPS tracking in the police cruiser taken from the scene to a private residence where we found Francis Dolarhyde, the killer known as the Toothfairy, dead. Evidence at the scene revealed blood from both Lecter and Graham and footprint analysis indicated that they likely went off the cliff into the ocean_."

 

The voice of the news reporter returned. " _While some have speculated that the lack of bodies indicates that Lecter and Graham may be alive and at large, the FBI's official statement is an insistent 'Nah, they're probably dead.' and no plans for a manhunt are being made at this time_."

 

"Well, that's convenient!" Hannibal said cheerfully, turning off the radio.

 

Will raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah, really." He reclined his seat again, but was relentlessly jarred from any attempt to sleep by Hannibal noisily trying to suck every last drop of Diet Coke from the ice in his cup.

 

===

 

It was four more hours before they crossed Charleston limits and Hannibal was pulling the BMW into the driveway of a very large plantation-style house. Will pulled himself out of the car and stretched his legs. He looked up at the white house in front of him, noting that it was significantly bigger than any of Hannibal's other houses he'd seen. The house was situated in the middle of acres of green land, peppered with flowers and trees. Turning with his back to the front of the house, the view in front of Will showed a wide field of grass dissolving into a small beach, ocean stretching beyond it. Turning again, he saw that beyond the fields and large barn behind the house was the edge of a thick forest of trees.

 

Hannibal unlocked the large dark wood front door and led them inside, revealing a grand foyer with a two-story ceiling and a split staircase beginning to the right and left, meeting in the center at a balcony and hall leading in either direction. A large doorway beneath the balcony showed a dining room straight ahead with floor-to-ceiling windows looking over a back patio and yard. Doors to the left showed a sitting area with another full size grand piano and a harpsichord. To the right of the foyer was a set of closed wooden doors.

 

"The study," Hannibal explained.

 

"This has all just been sitting here, furnished but empty?" Will asked. "All this time?"

 

Without offering explanation, Hannibal headed towards the staircase. "Come, I'll show you to your rooms."

 

"Rooms plural?" Will followed anyways.

 

At the top of the stairs, Hannibal turned right and led Will to a long hall with closed doors along both sides. Opening the first door to the right, he stepped inside.

 

"This is your personal dressing room," Hannibal directed Will into a large room with soft carpeting and one solitary plush armchair. The wall with the door to the hall was completely covered in floor-to-ceiling mirrors while the other three walls were filled with sets of French closet doors.

 

"Why are there so many closets?" Will wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

 

"Like I said, I've prepared for every contingency," Hannibal gave a knowing wink and moved to the first set of doors, flinging them open. "Here we have the _Will Still Insists on Dressing Himself_ wardrobe." He opened the next set. "This is the _Will Still Insists on Dressing Himself But At Least Acknowledges that He Needs Some Help_ wardrobe." Continuing down the line. "The _Will Has Inexplicably Morphed into the Hipster Lumberjack Trend While Hannibal was Incarcerated_ wardrobe. The _Will Feels Compelled to Wear All Black to Match the Newfound Color of His Soul_ wardrobe. The _Will Has Opened His Eyes and Lets Hannibal Dress Him_ wardrobe. The _Will Has Opened His Eyes and Lets Hannibal Dress Him, But Doesn't Want to Look TOO Metro_ wardrobe. And the _Will is So Very In Love with His Hannibal that He Wants Them to be One of Those Couples That Dresses Alike_ wardrobe." From the last, Hannibal pulled out two matching pink polo shirts with white sweaters delicately draped over the shoulders, eyes hopeful.

 

"Uh, thanks but I think I'll just pick something from here." Will started to pull a soft red and gray plaid shirt from the first closet, but on a second glance at Hannibal's puppy eyes, selected a dark blue button-down from the second closet instead.

 

Hannibal pursed his lips and wondered if he should burn the contents of the first closet to save Will the temptation. Carefully placing the matching pink polos back in the closet and closing the doors, Hannibal said. "Come, I'll show you to your private bathroom so you can shower."

 

Hannibal paused in the hall, however, eyeing the remaining closed doors and second-guessing telling Will about his many sleeping arrangement contingencies. He put his hand on the second door knob on the left, but remembering Will's expression upon seeing his poor forlorn pink polo shirts, moved to the next door and showed the other man into a nicely furnished bedroom with an ambiguously large bed. Hannibal's mental name for this room had been the _Will Isn't Quite Ready to be Seduced, But He's Warming Up to the Idea_ room and he silently congratulated himself on his choice when he saw Will's relieved glance around the room.

 

"This is very nice, Hannibal," Will nodded appreciatively. "I could get used to this." He gave the other man a small smile and headed towards the open door on the opposite wall, leading into a full marble bathroom.

 

"Do you need help applying your water-proof band-aids?" Hannibal called after him.

 

"No," Will called back. Popping his head back into the bedroom, he smiled warmly. "But thanks, Hannibal. For all of this."

 

Hannibal simply grinned back, his heart growing three sizes in that moment. When Will had returned to the bathroom, Hannibal pumped his fist in self-congratulation at his impeccable taste and left Will to clean himself up.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will continue to begin their new lives together as murder husbands. Here we have Hannibal cooking dinner and talking about ALL THE FEELZ with Will. Also, what are Jack, Alana, and Margot up to? Let's find out! The set-up continues, threats of crack and hijinks in the near future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tell you what I'm most looking forward to, getting through all this establishing stuff and getting to the real fun! It's the sap that gives me feelz, but the crack that gives me life. I feed on it like the Verger baby probably feeds on paint chips.

 

 

CHAPTER II

 

Will took a long shower, letting the hot water run over him but careful of his stitches and new injuries. The bathroom was filled with steam when he turned the water off and the heavy air felt warm and comforting as it dissipated, like settling into a bath of blood only to be born from it into a new life. Or something like that.

 

Will scrubbed his hair with a towel and then used it to clear the fog from the mirror. He looked at his reflection, surprised that his face didn't look worse than it did. He'd anticipated a horribly disfiguring scar, but Dolarhyde's knife had been sharp and precise, leaving a clean cut only an inch or so long. Will silently thanked the Great Red Dragon for not completely destroying his pretty face. Imagine Will Graham being disfigured by someone like that, what a travesty!

 

Speaking of scars, his fingers lightly ran across the large scar on his stomach, finding it hard to believe that he had now basically run away with the man who had given it to him years ago. Though in retrospect, he did probably have it coming...from a certain psychopathic point of view.

 

Will smiled despite himself, wondering how things could have been if he had simply left with Hannibal back then. He wouldn't have this scar, Abigail would still be alive. Hannibal probably would never have been caught and Will certainly would never have met Molly and married her. Looking back, everyone's lives probably would have been a lot better if Will had just left with Hannibal when he had the chance. Well, you know what they say about hindsight.

 

Will looked at the wedding band on his left hand. He had gone to see Molly in the hospital only yesterday morning, but it felt like a lifetime ago. He supposed the one comfort he had in leaving Molly and Walter behind was that Molly knew as well as Will that he was never coming home. He could tell she had suspected when they talked on the phone, but their first conversation in the hospital after her surgery had confirmed it. They both _knew_ he was never going back.

 

And really, thank God for that! He breathed a sigh of relief. Family life had certainly had its moments, but that sort of mundane life was just not for Will. If he had to hear Molly nag at him one more time that if you don't put away your fishing gear, William Ichabod Graham, before someone trips over it coming in the front door, so help me God.......Will wasn't going to be held accountable for his actions.

 

Muffled sounds drifted down the hallway from where Will could only assume was the kitchen. He smiled, thinking of Hannibal back in the kitchen after three years locked up. How happy the other man must be. Will pulled the ring off of his finger and sat it on the counter next to the sink. An unneeded memento of a life that he had never really been comfortable in.

 

===

 

Down the stairs and through the dining room, Will found Hannibal up to his elbows in preparing dinner. His hair was freshly washed and his charcoal sweater had been discarded for a more fitting vest and tie combination, complete with apron.

 

"You play the harp?" Will asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, towards the dining room where he'd passed the large gold instrument sitting in the corner.

 

"No," Hannibal didn't look up from the vegetables he was cutting, "but it seems like the kind of thing I should own."

 

"Right, seems legit." Will stood awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen, unsure what to do. "Do you want me to help?" he asked finally. "Or...stay out of your way?"

 

"You could never be in my way, dear Will," Hannibal looked up at him, eyes sparkling, "but tonight, I want to treat you. Pull up a seat." He turned to the fridge and plucked out a small red box, extricating a green straw from a wrapper and expertly putting it in place.

 

Will pulled a stool up to the counter and sat opposite Hannibal, accepting the offered juice box and taking a small sip. The smile Hannibal gave him was so full of affection that he felt a little embarrassed, like he'd forgotten to get dressed after he got out of the shower.

 

He looked down to double check. Ok yeah, he'd gotten dressed.

 

"So what's for dinner?" he asked.

 

"Normally I would say that you shouldn't ask, but," Hannibal answered with a long and seemingly descriptive name for the dish in French. At least, Will thought it was French. Italian? Probably not Spanish, he knew at least enough Spanish to recognize the language. Maybe. He stuck with assuming it was French, nodding with a mix of appreciation and feigned understanding.

 

"Sounds delicious," he said. The amused look that Hannibal gave him made Will slightly worried that the other man knew very well that he had no idea what he was talking about. He nervously sipped his juice box.

 

"I'm very glad that you're here with me, Will," Hannibal said after a few minutes. "It's hard to believe that it could be true."

 

"I hardly believe it's true myself," Will answered honestly. "A part of me wonders if I'm crazy to be here, or still lost in your mind games and not under my own control. I briefly wondered if I should leave, run far away."

 

Hannibal put down the knife he was holding and looked directly at Will, expression serious. "You must do what you feel is right, of course," he Obi-Waned. "I admit that I would much prefer it if you stayed." He picked the knife back up and continued chopping carrots.

 

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," Will sighed. "I've made my bed. I'm with you."

 

Hannibal's hands paused in their cutting and he swallowed hard. "Now when you say you've made your bed-"

 

Will stood and moved around the island counter to put his hand on Hannibal's shoulder. "I mean it," he said, realizing there was no reason to hold back now. "I'm with you, Hannibal. I won't leave."

 

Hannibal looked over his shoulder at the man next to him and simply nodded, heart feeling like it had found a new home, uncomfortably lodged in his throat.

 

Will smiled and touched his forehead to Hannibal's shoulder and stood there for a moment before looking back up at him. "I'll let you finish dinner though. I'm looking forward to it."

 

Hannibal counted his blessings that Will's back was to him when he left the kitchen as Hannibal had practically cut the tip of his thumb off with the large knife in his hand.

 

===

 

He did not, however, count his blessings at Will's apparently lack of piano lessons. The younger man had retreated to the living room and spent the last thirty minutes attempting to pick out melodies on the piano. Hannibal's hands now sported six band-aids where he had inadvertently cut or burned his fingers upon a particularly incorrect chord or rhythm. When he heard Will switch to picking out a few notes on the harpsichord though, he couldn't take it any longer.

 

"Will!" Hannibal called. "Would you like another juice box???"

 

"No thanks, I'm good!" came the reply, followed by more unpleasant harpsichord notes.

 

Hannibal frowned and looked around for any excuse to stop the noise. His eyes briefly lingered on a large carving knife, but he quickly shook his head. _No, Hannibal_ , he admonished himself. _You're not going to try to kill Will._

 

"Could you set the table? Dinner is almost ready," he called instead, letting out a sigh of relief when he heard the key lid on the harpsichord drop shut.

 

===

 

"Honestly, Will, you'd think you would have at least learned the order of the _forks_ during all of our dinners together," Hannibal was saying as he finished rearranging everything Will had laid out on the table.

 

"Sorry," Will apologized, oblivious to his serious affront to proper etiquette. "I guess I never paid that much attention."

 

"Obviously!" Hannibal huffed. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and added "Proper Table Settings" to his mental list of _Things to Show Will_ , just below "Which Contrasting Patterns You Can Get Away with Pairing in a Shirt and Tie Combo" but above "Hannibal's Impressive Collection of Pogs."

 

As they settled into dinner, Will put an - Hannibal cringed to see - especially large piece of meat in his mouth and hummed appreciatively at the taste. "This is delicious."

 

"Unfortunately, it really is only pork this time," Hannibal said. "It felt good to be cooking in a proper kitchen again. The kitchen at the hospital left much to be desired, I'm afraid."

 

Will frowned. "Wait, they let you cook while you were in the hospital?"

 

Hannibal nodded as he chewed, swallowed and said, "Yes. I cooked for Dr.Chilton on numerous occasions."

 

Will sat down his knife and fork. "They let you, a convicted serial killer and cannibal, into the kitchen? And they let you cook?"

 

"Do you find that strange, Will?"

 

"Yes, I find that strange!" he gestured to the adjoining room. "Kitchens have knives and pointy things and stoves and ovens and all sorts of potentially deadly objects! Why would they let someone in a hospital for the 'criminally insane,'" he emphasized the words with finger quotes, "anywhere _near_ any of that stuff?!"

 

"I suppose they trusted me not to spoil the culinary arts with petty revenge," Hannibal shrugged.

 

" _I_ wouldn't trust you not to cut off your own finger just to watch Frederick Chilton find it in his soup," Will admitted.

 

Hannibal looked thoughtful for a moment. "The idea never occurred to me," he said. "Shame, it would have been worth the look on dear Frederick's face."

 

The rest of the course passed in thoughtful silence for opportunities missed. It wasn't until dessert had been served that Will spoke again.

 

"I suppose we should talk about where we stand," he said quietly. "If it's even possible to define this...relationship of ours."

 

Hannibal looked at the table in front of him. _Keep it cool, Hanni_ , he thought. _Keep it cool. Will just used the R-Word, it's the moment you've been waiting for. You can do this._ Making eye contact with the younger man, he said aloud, "Yes, I suppose we should."

 

Will looked out the large windows at the sun poetically setting over the trees in the distance. "There's no going back for me," he said. "I know that now. After all this time, you finally got me to embrace who I am and I can't let that go again. For every part of me that _knows_ that it's wrong, there are ten parts of me that _feels_ that it's right." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, admitting almost reluctantly, "It feels too good, being myself, to stop now."

 

Hannibal purposely knocked a knife to the floor, biting his fist and squealing under the table as he leaned to pick it up. Resituating himself in his chair, his face was a mask of composure. "I'm very happy to hear that, Will," he said. "I've only ever wanted you to be who you are meant to be."

 

"Blood and breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel my radiance," Will quoted. "You said that to me once."

 

Hannibal's brow furrowed. "When did I say that?"

 

"Almost four years ago," Will answered.

 

Hannibal shook his head. "I don't think I said that, Will."

 

"Yes, you did," Will frowned. "I remember it clearly. We were having dinner, it was a lot like this."

 

"I don't really even understand what that statement _means_ , let alone imagine I would have said it."

 

"You say flowery things like that all the time," Will insisted.

 

"And you remember every little thing I've ever said?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "A little weird, isn't it, Will?" He took a bite of his dessert.

 

"Bedelia told me that you're in love with me," Will said suddenly, looking at the other man.

 

Hannibal almost choked on his fig. "Di-id," his voice cracked. Attempting to clear his throat, he tried again. "Did she now?"

 

"Yeah," Will looked down at the food in front of him, face flushing almost imperceptibly. "I didn't know what to think of it at first. I wasn't even sure that I believed her."

 

Hannibal coughed a chunk of fig out of his lung. "Really?"

 

"I couldn't imagine that I would have missed the signs of that," Will answered honestly, "but I asked around and apparently everyone else knew already."

 

"You asked _multiple_ people?" Hannibal choked out, contemplating whether it was worth interrupting a conversation this important just to ask Will to give him the Heimlich maneuver. His face started to turn blue.

 

"Well, Jack just gave me a _look_ ," Will did his best to mimic Jack's stern expression, "like he was so done with my shit and walked away, so I didn't press the issue. Alana burst into tears and petted my head like I was a lost puppy." Will frowned again. "I asked Frederick Chilton, but he just drooled on himself a bit and tried to stab me with his IV tower. In the end, I texted Freddie Lounds and she replied with 'Of course he does, ya big queen!'.......and I figured she's been mostly right all along."

 

Having finally dislodged the remainder of his dessert from his windpipe, Hannibal pushed his plate aside. "And how does that knowledge make you feel?" he asked, slipping into the role of Will's psychiatrist in an attempt to not look _too_ interested in Will's thoughts on the matter.

 

"I don't know how it makes me feel, to be honest," Will said honestly. "I've never been interested in being with another man. I've never been sexually or even _romantically_ attracted to one either. But..." he trailed off.

 

"Buuuuuuuuuuuuuut?" Hannibal prompted carefully.

 

"But..." Will sighed. "You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love."

 

Hannibal's fist stopped midway to his mouth. "Ok, I did say _that_ ," he admitted, "but you definitely were _not_ there when I said it."

 

Ignoring the paradox he'd created, Will leaned forward and placed his hand on top of Hannibal's, resting on the table. "But it's true," he said sincerely. "And I realized that I fell for you a long time ago."

 

Hannibal turned his hand over to hold the other's, thumb rubbing lightly over Will's knuckles. "I do love you, Will."

 

Will took a deep breath and smiled one of the most genuine smiles Hannibal had ever seen on the younger man. "I love you too, Hannibal."

 

===

 

"Nah, they're probably dead," Jack was saying, rubbing his forehead with the hand that wasn't holding the phone to his ear.

 

"'Probably?'" Alana's voice said for the third time from the other end of the line. "You haven't found any bodies?"

 

"No, we haven't."

 

"Any _parts_ of bodies?"

 

"Not a hair."

 

"You're right, they're probably dead," Alana conceded finally. "I guess we fled the country for nothing."

 

"No, you were right to leave," Jack said, walking over to pour himself a glass of whiskey even though he was at work. "Hannibal wanted to kill you. I would've left the country too if he wanted to kill me."

 

"Hannibal _did_ want to kill you," Alana pointed out. "Remember that dinner you were supposed to have with him and Will that left all of us in the hospital and Hannibal flying off to Europe?"

 

Jack frowned. "Hannibal wasn't going to kill me, Will said he was going to reveal himself to me. I thought he was just going to confess to being the Chesapeake Ripper. The only reason he attacked me was because he saw me go for my gun."

 

"Uh no," Alana sighed, patiently. "Hannibal was planning on him and Will killing you and running away together."

 

Jack sat down in his chair with a thud. "But...Hannibal and I were friends," he said, shocked. "I never thought he would want to kill me."

 

"Yeah, and all those friendly dinners you had with him? That was probably human on your plate."

 

"I...I thought 'long pig' was a special type of hog breed..." Jack felt sick.

 

There was an awkward pause in the conversation before Alana spoke. "It doesn't matter now though, Jack. Hannibal and Will are probably dead, so we're all safe and can go on with our lives."

 

"Yes, you're probably right. Give Margot my best, have a safe trip home." Jack was obviously still processing Hannibal's betrayal when he hung up the phone.

 

"How is Jack?" Margot asked as her wife returned her cell phone to the pocket on her expensive coat.

 

"He's good," Alana answered. "He insists that Hannibal and Will are probably dead."

 

"Probably dead?"

 

"It's better than probably _not_ dead," Alana said, logically.

 

"Oh, I suppose that's right," Margot nodded. "We might as well go home then."

 

They sat for a few more minutes as their son played on the playground. The cheerful laughter of the children was pierced by a scream and the wails of a little girl, clutching a now headless Barbie to her chest.

 

Alana rushed forward to extricate the Barbie's head from their son's mouth. "That is the third time he's done that this week," she said. "Do you think we should be worried?"

 

"Nah," Margot replied with a shrug. "Only half of his genetics came from my brother. He'll probably turn out fine."

 

 

 


	3. Chapter III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a relationship established! So established, in fact, that here there be some of that sweet sweet lovin...if you know where to look for it. A quick check-in with the Freds, a deal between murder husbands, and one ruined childhood. You may think I'm being serious, but I'm not. I'm really not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments and kudos! They're like the crack to my crack engine, keeping me going. This should, more or less, be the end of my establish-the-scene stuff (thank GOD) and hijinks will ensue from here on out. The next update will probably include the very first thing I wrote for this fic...which is, incidentally, my favorite part I've written and has been SO HARD to keep holding it back.

 

 

CHAPTER III

 

Will and Hannibal were sitting together on the back patio, watching the last hints of the sun slip behind the trees. Both relaxed, the remains of dinner's bottle of wine glinting red (like blood) in their glasses. They were comfortable with their proximity to one another on the bench, not too close but close enough that stray movements led to light brushes of a leg or arm.

 

"It really is nice here," Will admitted. "Do you think we could stay?"

 

Hannibal took a sip of his wine. "For awhile," he answered. "Right now, they think we're probably dead. We have that to our advantage."

 

"Mmm," Will made an agreeable sound as he took a drink from his glass as well. "Then no one will be looking for us."

 

Hannibal felt torn. Here he was in what was most likely the most perfect moment ever, even the silence between them seemed to fit. He wanted more though. Three long years alone in a cell, he craved contact. Even the brief touches Will had given him had breathed new life into the older man. Company and companionship were nice, but sweet sweet lovin' was what he yearned for.

 

Gently placing his empty wine glass on an end table, he cleared his throat. "So, um, Will," he started. "Are your legs tired?"

 

Will frowned. "No, why?"

 

"Cause you've been running through my mind for the past three years."

 

Will almost spit his wine down the front of his shirt. "Excuse me?"

 

"Ha! Ha...uh...nevermind," Hannibal looked around awkwardly. After a minute, he extended his arm out between them. "Hey, Will," he said. "Feel my shirt."

 

Will gave him a strange look but complied in feeling the fabric of Hannibal's sleeve. "What about it?" he asked.

 

"Tell me, does it feel like boyfriend material?"

 

Will pushed Hannibal's arm aside and rolled his eyes, taking another drink of his wine.

 

Stretching his arms out in front of himself and then up above, Hannibal opened his mouth in a big, overdone yawn. He spread his arms up and to the sides, just happening to let his left arm settle on the back of the bench behind Will, fingers tracing circles lightly on the other man's shoulder.

 

"Really?" Will asked, amused. "Is this what you're doing now?"

 

"Huh?" Hannibal attempted to look genuinely unaware of what he was doing. "What am I doing?"

 

"Look, you don't have to do this."

 

Hannibal raised his eyebrows in what he hoped looked both questioning and a bit confused.

 

Will took the last drink from his glass and sat it on the table next to him. He turned abruptly in his seat, putting his hands on either side of Hannibal's face and pressing their lips together. Hannibal froze, his mind not processing what was happening until the brief kiss was over and the other man was settling back in his seat.

 

"There," Will said. "Now that's out of the way, we can skip all the awkwardness."

 

Hannibal could only nod, taking a minute to find his voice again. Standing, he said slowly, "I'm going to get another bottle of wine. Can I get you anything? Juice box?"

 

"Wine is good," Will smiled up at him.

 

Hannibal turned and walked carefully back into the house, suddenly aware of something else he hadn't had during his three years of incarceration. He passed through the kitchen and dining room, checking to make sure Will's back was still to the windows. Once in the sitting room and confident that the other man hadn't moved, Hannibal selected a pillow from one of the couches and smashed it against his face, screaming at the top of his lungs and jumping up and down.

 

He lowered the pillow - expression serious and composed once again - and fluffed it a bit before carefully placing it back on the couch. He crossed the house to the kitchen and entered the wine cellar, selecting a bottle of excellent vintage. He grabbed two new glasses on his way back outside.

 

Will smiled at him again and accepted the offered glass. As he took his seat with his arm along the back of the bench, Hannibal thought he'd regained his composure. That is, until Will scooted over in his seat and settled against Hannibal's side casually. The normally poised doctor was suddenly overcome with the urge to run inside for another bout of pillow screaming, but managed to contain himself.

 

Several minutes passed with only the sounds of nature to break the silence. "I think this is all I need now, Will," Hannibal sighed. "No vast palaces or halls of rooms. Just now, this moment."

 

"Hmm," Will made a thoughtful sound. "I thought all I needed was the stream, but I think I built a palace to rival your own over the past three years."

 

"Did you find me there?"

 

"Whether I wanted to or not," Will said with a laugh, looking back at the man behind him. "I couldn't escape you, no matter how hard I tried. Even in my _memory palace_." He said the last two words deliberately.

 

"We won't need our memory palaces in this life, Will. No need to escape reality anymore."

 

Will sighed regretfully. "I was thinking earlier that I should have left with you years ago, when you gave me the chance. Seen the world that you had created for us."

 

"I could show you the world," Hannibal replied, pressing his cheek to the top of Will's head. "Shining. Shimmering. Splendid."

 

"I guess it is about time I let my heart decide," Will admitted. "My eyes have been closed for far too long."

 

"I can open your eyes," Hannibal assured him. "Wonder by wonder, I'll take you. Over. Sideways and under."

 

Will felt the world opening up before him like the reveal of a spectacular magic trick, the hard ground beneath him giving way to soft carpet and the sky below. He could feel all the worries and stress that had held him down for so long, lifting from his shoulders. He felt weightless, riding high among the clouds.

 

Hannibal stood and turned to face him. "A whole new world, Will. I will give you a new and fantastic point of view."

 

Will downed the rest of his glass of wine in one go. Taking the hand offered to him, he stood. "There will be no one to tell us no anymore. Or where to go."

 

"Or say we're only dreaming," Hannibal said quietly, eyes lowering to the other man's lips.

 

"A whole new world," Will agreed, taking a step closer, hands moving up Hannibal's arms to his shoulders. "A dazzling place I never knew..." his voice was barely a whisper, the last words barely out of his mouth before Hannibal's covered his own.

 

As they separated, Hannibal took Will's hand and led him all the way up to the _Will is Successfully Being Seduced, But Hannibal Doesn't Want to Risk Scaring Him Away_ room. His worries were unfounded, however, because he soon realized how crystal clear it was that Will was ready and willing to see all of this new world with him.

 

From that moment, Will felt all connections to his old life fade away. The sights that Hannibal would show him that evening were unbelievable. The feelings, indescribable. In each others' arms, they soared. Tumbling, freewheeling through the night sky. A sky far from the city lights, an endless field of stars, sparkling like diamonds.

 

"Don't you dare close your eyes," Hannibal breathed, desperate to see the hundred thousand things that Will kept hidden behind them. "Hold your breath, it gets better," he soothed.

 

Stars were shooting across the inside of Will's eyelids, but he opened them anyways. _I've come so far_ , he thought, eyes locked with the man above him. _I can't go back to where I used to be_. He gave in to Hannibal completely. Finding surprises at every turn, new horizons to pursue.

 

After what felt like only moments but as long as lifetime, Hannibal and Will were lying side by side on the bed, fingers linked between them, the giant red _H_ sculpture on the wall over the bed hanging at an odd angle.

 

Will sighed, content for the first time in what felt like ages, and decided that he would chase those new horizons anywhere. Anywhere that Hannibal would lead him. But there was no rush, there was plenty of time to spare. He turned his head to look at the man next to him and saw dark eyes looking back at him.

 

"Let me share this whole new world with you," Hannibal smiled and all Will could do was smile back.

 

===

 

Having completely ruined her own childhood, this author decided to see what some of our other favorite characters were up to.

 

Frederick Chilton was chilling in his hyperbaric chamber, cause really, what else was he going to do. He was attempting to hum to pass the time, but the lack of lips made it a bit difficult and all that came out was random off-key grunts and unintentional whistling.

 

The sound of the door opening gave him a moment of excitement to have a visitor, but the feeling passed quickly when a flash of red hair identified the visitor as Freddie Lounds. Frederick briefly wondered how that Madchen girl had managed to set herself on fire in her chamber and if he had the means to do so as well.

 

"Dr.Chilton," Freddie attempted to look upset at the man's situation, but still managed to sound like a complete and total bitch. "I'm so sorry to see you like this. To think, it could easily have been me in there, instead of you."

 

"Uck yu hhedy," was the response.

 

Ignoring the implication of those syllables, Freddie continued. "I'm sure you've heard by now that Hannibal Lecter has escaped."

 

Chilton groaned and wished for death to just hurry up and take him.

 

The obnoxious woman walked casually around the room, looking at gauges and dials on Chilton's chamber with mild curiosity. "It appears that Will Graham helped to orchestrate that escape, but they're both now presumed...probably dead."

 

"Flohuhly?"

 

Freddie shrugged, "So they say." She moved closer to Chilton, lowering her voice. "But I have my doubts."

 

Chilton slowly turned his head to face her.

 

"No bodies, Frederick?" she asked, incredulous. "A little convenient, isn't it?"

 

"Ut theh sed thehr flohuhly ded," Chilton offered.

 

Freddie waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Either way," she got down to business, "you're in no position to finish those books you were working on and my two most interesting subjects are probably dead. Cliffhangers don't make very good endings for non-fiction books, literal or no."

 

"Nd?"

 

"And I think we can help one another." She smiled and Frederick Chilton's soul died a little inside him.

 

===

 

After a night blissfully free of dreams, the sun was well over the horizon when Will awoke to an empty place in the bed next to him. Conveniently, almost as if on cue, Hannibal chose that moment to walk into the room carrying a tray. He was wearing a light gray t-shirt and dark plaid flannel pants, looking surprisingly comfortable in his casualwear.

 

"Protein scramble to help promote healing," he made up some sciencey stuff as Will pushed himself into a seated position, "with a selection of fresh fruit and coffee, just how you like it."

 

"The first thing we ever ate together was a protein scramble," Will pointed out.

 

"Seriously, Will, it's a little creepy the things you remember," Hannibal looked uneasy for a moment before smiling, setting the tray on the bed with a flourish.

 

"Uh, Hannibal," Will frowned at the plate in front of him. "This is Fruity Pebbles and a juice box."

 

"I work with what I have," Hannibal said, throwing the curtains open, letting the sun flood the room and offering no explanation of where the ingredients for last night's dinner had come from. "Use your active imagination."

 

Yeah, readers. What he said.

 

"I guess grocery shopping will be on the agenda for today." Will picked up his spoon and starting shoveling in the Fruity Pebbles like a starving man.

 

"Grocery shopping, eh???" Hannibal turned from the window and raised one eyebrow very slowly. "Time to stock the fridge?"

 

Will dropped his spoon onto the tray. "Now, Hannibal," he said patiently, "that's something we need to talk about. We need to set some ground rules."

 

Hannibal flounced onto the bed with a pout. "But Wiii-iilllll," he tried his best to look like a hurt puppy, "I haven't eaten people in soooooo lonnnnnnnnnnng!" he fell over onto his side and let out a few shuddering whimpers.

 

Will ran his fingers through the other man's hair idly and sighed. "I know, I know," he said, "and I won't ask you to give that up. You accept me for who I am, I've accepted who you are." He neglected to mention that he'd been craving some of that tasty, tasty human meat himself over the past three years. Whether by Hannibal's amazing culinary prowess or just the general fact of the matter, that shit is good!

 

Hannibal rolled onto his stomach, chin on his hands. "Are we to hunt then, Will?" he looked hopeful.

 

"We'll hunt," Will nodded, "but none of this 'killing people just because they're rude' thing. I won't be part of killing the innocent."

 

"Rude people are hardly innocent," Hannibal pointed out and you gotta admit, he has a point.

 

But Will wouldn't admit that Hannibal had a point, insisting, "Only the truly despicable."

 

"Fine, fine," Hannibal conceded. "But I can't promise my reflexes won't feel otherwise in the moment."

 

"As long as you try, that's all I ask." Will stuck out his hand. "Deal?"

 

Hannibal grinned and shook Will's hand. "Deal."

 

===

 

Almost two hours later, Will was pulling on his jacket as he headed down the stairs and towards the front door. Hannibal had said he'd pick him up out front, their plan was to check out the area and stock up on basic groceries and provisions.

 

Stepping through the front door and pulling it shut behind him, Will froze in his tracks. "Um," he started, "what's that?"

 

Hannibal zipped up his red-striped black leather jacket and picked a helmet up from the seat of a very expensive looking silver motorcycle. "It's a motorcycle," he gestured at it. "Come on, the day's a-wasting, as they say."

 

Will didn't move from the doorstep. "What happened to the BMW?" he asked.

 

"Oh, that peasant-mobile?" Hannibal made an unpleasant face. "I called and had it hauled off for scrap."

 

"That was a $50,000 car!" Will exclaimed.

 

"I know," the other man visibly shuddered. "I only deign to use vehicles like that when I'm trying to maintain a low profile."

 

"We don't need to keep a low profile now?"

 

"No," Hannibal said simply. "They think we're probably dead, remember? Now come on," he beckoned Will towards him. "Let's go."

 

Cautiously, Will made his way down the steps and closer to the bike, looking at it like it might jump up and attack him at any second.

 

"Don't tell me you've never been on a motorcycle before," Hannibal realized, feeling surprisingly butch for the moment.

 

"It's just," Will said slowly, "I try to avoid things that might kill me."

 

Hannibal gave Will a moment to see if the irony of that statement would occur to him. Apparently, it didn't. "Well anyways," he said finally, "I have many years experience in driving motorcycles. It'll be fine."

 

Reluctantly, Will accepted the helmet offered to him and climbed on the back of the bike, fairly convinced that after everything he had survived in the last several years, he would finally meet his end in a firey motorcycle crash.

 

Hannibal, however, grinned the whole way to town, congratulating himself on a plan well executed. It might take days to pry Will's arms out from around him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My biggest worry about this part is that people will think I was being serious during the "love scene" if they don't get what actually makes it ridiculous. :-/ I can never be serious for that long! ^.^
> 
> I've been posting this as I write it and will continue to do so, but life has an inconvenient habit of requiring things of us (that jerk). That said, future updates might be more spread out than the daily updates I've been giving...but not to fear, it's only to make sure I can give updates that are substantial. <3


	4. Chapter IV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The excitement is almost palpable as the murder husbands stalk their first kill as a couple! Not everything goes as planned though, OH NOES! Blood and violence and plastic murder suits abound, with a check in with everyone's favorite Sassy Science duo!

 

 

CHAPTER IV

 

"I can't believe you didn't think this through," Will was saying. "It's not like you to not think things through."

 

"I don't recall you bringing it up when we left the house," Hannibal said defensively.

 

"I was a bit too preoccupied with not dying on the back of this death machine you insisted on driving us here on."

 

The two men were standing with arms full of bags, looking down at the vehicle between them. The motorcycle was - Hannibal was reluctant to admit - probably a bad choice for a shopping trip. It possessed an unfortunate lack of trunk space.

 

"Welp, time to buy a new car!" he said, turning swiftly on a heel and taking off down the street briskly.

 

"How exactly do you have the money for a new car?" Will asked, hurrying to catch up. "Surely all of your assets were seized during your incarceration."

 

"All of the assets under the name Hannibal Lecter, surely," the other replied. "I have more than just houses stashed across the country, Will. Multiple bank accounts under multiple aliases, enough means for several lifetimes."

 

"How horrendously convenient," Will nodded. It sure would be a pain in the ass if they had to worry about money or the basic necessities. Can you imagine?!

 

"I have an alias and accounts set up for you too," Hannibal looked at him meaningfully. "From before, when we were to leave together."

 

"Also convenient," Will said, grimacing. Way to twist that knife again, Hannibal.

 

An hour later, they were pulling out of a dealership in a $250,000 Bentley.

 

"Much better," Hannibal relaxed into his seat, hands on the wheel in front of him.

 

"Very subtle," Will rolled his eyes.

 

"Come now, Will," the other man chided. "This is a far inferior model to the one I had in Baltimore. I exercised a great deal of restraint at the dealership!"

 

"I'm sure."

 

"You'll be pleased to know that the visit to the dealership was successful for two reasons though," Hannibal's eyes glinted dangerously. "I found the first prey of our posthumous lives."

 

"Tell me you don't want to kill the secretary just because she mispronounced your fake name," Will sighed. "Remember our deal."

 

"No, no. Not the secretary." Hannibal reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Will.

 

"Who's this?"

 

"The gentleman in the red Audi."

 

"He was kind of a dick, I admit," Will admitted, "but that's hardly a reason to kill someone."

 

Hannibal looked at him patiently, as if explaining to a small child. "Well for starters, he drives an Audi _and_ unnecessarily took up _two_ parking spaces in the lot."

 

"Still not a good enough reason."

 

"I smelled two very distinct perfumes on him, the impression from a missing ring on his left hand indicating that he is married and having an affair."

 

"Technically, I'm still married," Will pointed out.

 

"Til death do you part, Will," Hannibal had a pointing out of his own. "Will Graham is dead."

 

"Ok, but I'm still not convinced Mr.Audi deserves to die."

 

"The bruising of his knuckles and the distinct smell of another's blood mingling with the faint traces of alcohol, signs of a violent drunk." Feeling the need to drive the point home, Hannibal added carefully, "Wouldn't surprise me if he's abusive to animals too."

 

Will's brow furrowed, looking at the card in his hand. "Michael Dougherty, Attorney-at-Law," he read, conceding because this author just doesn't feel like spending ten pages debating Will's tortured morality on the matter. "So, what's the next step?" he asked, returning the card to Hannibal.

 

"Now?" Hannibal smiled. "We retrieve my motorcycle and do some research."

 

===

 

Motorcycle retrieved and bags unloaded back at the house, Hannibal sat down on the couch with his pink bedazzled iPad. Will rested his elbows on the back of the couch, looking over the other man's shoulder. Within ten minutes, Hannibal had uncovered Michael Dougherty's home address, business address, personal cell phone number, daily routine, list of friends and acquaintances, high school permanent record, list of medications, favorite color, greatest fears, shoe size, inseam, vacation photos, and cable provider.

 

"I always tell people that they should check their privacy settings," Hannibal said a little sadly, "but no one ever listens to me."

 

"What is this thing?" Will plucked the iPad from Hannibal's hands and turned it over, looking at it like some sort of alien technology.

 

"My tablet?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

 

"I've never seen anything like it!" Will sounded more than a little awed at the device in his hands. "What is it? Like a mini computer?"

 

"Sort of?" Hannibal was more than a little amused. "Or a big cell phone."

 

Will looked confused. "Cell phone?"

 

Hannibal stood and patted Will on the head. "Oh, my dear sweet Will," he said. "I have so much to show you of the world."

 

===

 

Michael Dougherty's routine was conveniently predictable. At about 7:00pm, he would leave his office and go to one of his three favorite bars, where he would order drinks for himself and whichever women he could manage to charm. He would leave the bar between 9:30 and 11:00, stop at a seedy liquor store a few miles from his house, then head home to his family. All Hannibal and Will needed to do was find which bar Mr.Dougherty had chosen for the evening and wait for him to leave.

 

In the meantime, the atmosphere in the house was buzzing with excitement. Will was alternating his time between pacing in enthusiastic anticipation and sitting on the couch, leg bouncing impatiently. Hannibal had left him alone at the house, saying that he was going to run to town to pick up a few things they would need that evening.

 

Will sprung off the couch and bounded across the house when he heard the front door lock disengage. Yanking it open before Hannibal could finish turning the knob, Will bounced on his toes. "What'd you get?" he asked. "What'd you get?"

 

Hannibal grinned. "You'll see," he said with a wink. "Come, I got you a gift."

 

Will followed him through the foyer and into the dining room obediently. If he acted any more like an excited dog than he already was, his tongue would probably be hanging out of his mouth.

 

Hannibal placed the bags he had brought home on the table and searched through them until he found what he was looking for. "While it is much more _intimate_ ," he emphasized the word, "to kill with your hands, it never hurts to have a weapon for back-up." He pulled a long, thin, black box out of one of the bags and handed it to the other man.

 

Shifting the box to his left hand, Will carefully opened the lid to reveal a sharp and deadly-looking hunting knife with an intricately carved handle. It looked quite expensive. He took the knife in his right hand, feeling the weight and grip. "This is fantastic, Hannibal," he said genuinely. "Thank you."

 

Hannibal could only smile with the pride of a mother hen. A mother hen who had watched over and nurtured her chick for years and years, pushed and encouraged the chick to study hard and get plenty of rest and eat its peas and now, after so much time and molding, the chick was ready to leave the roost and take up the family business of brutally murdering people. I think that got a little away from me there.

 

After a moment, Hannibal returned his attention to the bags on the table, pulling out another long box. "I purchased a similar one for myself." He opened the lid and presented it to Will, revealing a knife of comparable design. Hannibal's knife handle, however, was emblazoned with sparkly red letters that read "H <3s W". Hannibal grinned expectantly.

 

"Oh!" Will said, smiling awkwardly. "It's lovely."

 

The two men went upstairs to their respective dressing rooms to get ready for the evening. Will opened the closet Hannibal had informed him to be _Will's Super Sexy Murder Closet_ and selected his clothes. He felt admittedly clichéd but totally badass in his smart black pants and shoes with his slightly darker black turtleneck and gloves. Crossing to the bedroom with the connected private bath, he wetted his hair and slicked it back with a hairbrush. Looking at himself in the mirror, he nodded in approval.

 

He stepped out of the bedroom into the hall just in time to come face to face with Hannibal, who was wearing a dark gray three-piece suit and purple paisley tie, all of it covered in what could only be described as clear plastic footie pajamas.

 

" _What_ ," Will started, "in God's name, is _that?!_ "

 

Hannibal looked down at himself, confused. "This is my murder suit," he answered simply.

 

"That has to be the most absurd thing I've ever seen!" Will admitted. "Where in the world do you even _find_ something like that?"

 

Hannibal tilted his head and frowned. "Sporting goods stores," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I had quite the collection of these back in Baltimore."

 

"So I take it this is how you manage to never leave any evidence behind," Will gestured to the plastic-wrapped man in front of him.

 

"Oh, no," Hannibal shook his head. "I never leave evidence because I'm careful. This," he smoothed the leg of his plastic pants, "is to keep my suits clean."

 

"You could just, I dunno, not wear a suit?" Will offered.

 

"And risk getting blood on my $600 Cashmere sweaters?" Hannibal looked appalled at the thought. "I'm appalled at the thought!" he exclaimed. He held up the bundle in his left hand. "So I take it that you don't want to wear the one I got for you?"

 

Will put his hands up in front of him as if to ward off the evil spirits of plastic clothing. "I would rather _burn_ my clothes than wear that thing."

 

"Oh," Hannibal looked more than a little sad that they wouldn't be killing Michael Dougherty while wearing matching murder suits. "Ok, then."

 

Will couldn't help but feel a little guilty about causing the sad expression on Hannibal's face. He put his hand on the other man's shoulder in comfort, wincing at the accompanying sound of scrunched plastic. "Look, maybe next time," he said. Hoping vainly that Hannibal didn't have a memory for promises, he added, "I promise I'll give it a shot."

 

Hannibal, as we all know, has an excellent memory for promises. He grinned.

 

===

 

Through either sheer luck or this author's lack of originality, the first bar parking lot that Hannibal pulled his Bentley into happened to include Michael Dougherty's atrocious red Audi. Unsurprisingly, it was again taking up two parking spaces.

 

"That is so _rude_ ," Hannibal seethed, knuckles white as he increased his grip on the steering wheel.

 

He parked the car in the lot of a neighboring building with a good view of the bar's front door and the red Audi, turning off the engine. It was only 8:00pm, so they knew they would have to wait awhile for Dougherty to leave the bar. Hannibal pulled out his pink iPad and started playing Angry Birds. Will was surprised to see that the brilliant doctor was surprisingly bad at the game.

 

The small analog clock in the swanky dashboard ticked the minutes away. The silence was broken only by the drumming of Will's fingers on the car door and the excited squeals of weaponized birds. Shortly after 10pm, Will spotted Dougherty leaving the bar alone.

 

"There he is," Will said, whispering as if the lawyer might hear him from all the way across the parking lot.

 

Hannibal closed the cover on his iPad and tossed it into the back seat. He waited for Dougherty to get into his car and leave the parking lot before starting the Bentley and pulling it onto the road, a couple cars behind their target.

 

Will felt like he could almost hear the electricity in the air as the boredom of the past two hours gave way to renewed excitement for the hunt. The anticipation of how he knew he would feel killing this man was building in him, as was an eagerness to feel as he did that night at the house on the cliff. Killing with the man seated beside him, feeling so in sync with another person, there was no feeling like it.

 

Hannibal had his right hand resting on the gear shifter between them, so Will put his hand on top of it and interlocked their fingers. "Man, it sure is nice that we both heal miraculously fast," he said.

 

"I know, right?" Hannibal said, completely out of character.

 

"Can you imagine if we'd have had to just lay around the house for months on end, waiting to heal?" Will rotated his right shoulder easily. "I feel like I could compete in a triathlon right now."

 

"I know what you mean," Hannibal replied, assuring the reader that their recent injuries would in no way impede their coming actions. "I feel great."

 

They only had to travel a couple miles before Dougherty's car pulled off of the road into the lot of a long strip mall. There were no open parking spots next to each other in front of the liquor store for him to obnoxiously park across, so he pulled in front of a neighboring store, across a small dark alley that separated the building in the middle. It was almost like the dude was _asking_ to get murdered.

 

Continuing past the entrance to the mall, Hannibal took the Bentley around the building to park behind it, next to the alley but out of sight. The only security light in the area was dull and flickering more off than on, threatening to burn out completely at any moment.

 

Hannibal and Will took up position in the alley, wordlessly understanding the other man's thoughts and intentions. Will pressed himself in the shadows against the wall at the entrance to the alley, feeling the weight of the knife Hannibal had given him pressing against his lower back. Hannibal stood nonchalantly in the middle of the alley, feet apart and hands clasped behind his back. Will could hardly make out the form of the other man in the dark, the light flickering behind the building only showing the faintest outline that someone was even there.

 

Trust me, he looked totally menacing and badass.

 

Will felt a shiver travel up his spine as they heard the bell on the liquor store door chime, the tell-tale thumps of footsteps approaching. Michael Dougherty passed by the entrance to the alleyway, brown bag in hand, and hardly knew what hit him when Will lunged forward, gripping the lawyer by the collar of his suit jacket and dragging him backwards into the darkness of the alley.

 

Dougherty tried to cry out, but the force of Will's pull on his collar was cutting off his airway. The brown bag fell from his hand with a dull thud as he frantically clutched at his throat, trying desperately to loosen his shirt and tie.

 

Hannibal was about to advance to aid Will in the takedown when the air was pierced by a loud _RIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!_ as the collar and entire back section of Dougherty's suit jacket tore loose in Will's hand. Will could only stare dumbfounded at the fabric clutched in his fist as their victim scrambled away on his hands and knees, coughing and trying to get to his feet.

 

"What the hell?" Will was momentarily lost in contemplating the idea of a tear-away business suit.

 

Luckily, Hannibal was quicker to react, pouncing on Dougherty and pinning him to the ground with a knee on his back. "Will?" he said, only the slightest impatience evident in his voice.

 

His voice brought Will back to reality and he dropped the scraps of suit jacket, rushing forward to help Hannibal with the man beneath him. As Will approached, Hannibal let off on the pressure his knee had on Dougherty's back, which gave the man enough leverage to push himself free. Dougherty flung himself onto his back on the ground, kicking and swinging his arms wildly. Unfortunately for Will, one of Dougherty's feet wildly kicked straight into Will's junk.

 

"Oh, mother of God!" Will gasped, grabbing his wounded bits and falling to his knees.

 

"Will!" Hannibal was enough distracted by the fact that anyone would dare harm his Will's precious nads that Dougherty finally managed to get to his feet and slammed himself, shoulder first, into Hannibal. The force knocked the older man back against the brick wall behind him.

 

"You son of a bitch!" Dougherty spat out, hands moving to close around Hannibal's throat.

 

Seeing that Will was still too busy trying not to cry in the middle of the alleyway, Hannibal knew that he would have to get himself out of his current situation on his own. He brought his arms up and quickly slammed the sides of his hands downwards into the crooks of Dougherty's elbows, forcing the other man closer and allowing Hannibal to expertly head-butt him in the face.

 

An expert head-butt had been the plan, but Hannibal had misjudged the angle and succeeded in almost knocking himself out. Both he and Dougherty stumbled aimlessly for a few steps, holding their heads in their hands.

 

Will, in the meantime, had finally regained a shred of his masculinity and decided it was time to end this. Wielding his knife in his hand, he took off full force in a sprint towards Dougherty, spear tackling him right off of his feet. The force of impact with the ground temporarily knocked the air out of Will, but when he rolled off of the other man, the hilt of his knife was sticking out of Dougherty's chest. The lawyer was lying on his back, blood bubbling out of his mouth with each shuddering breath.

 

"That wasn't exactly how I had pictured this going down," Hannibal said, leaning one hand on a nearby dumpster and holding his head with the other.

 

"Me neither," Will's voice was strained and a bit high.

 

Dougherty's bloody gasps gurgled between them. Hannibal pushed himself away from the dumpster and stepped towards the man on the ground. "Come on," he said. "Let's finish this."

 

As Hannibal pulled out his own knife and bent to give the killing blow, Will stepped forward and bent to retrieve his knife from Dougherty's chest. The result was that the two men banged their heads together, sending them stumbling backwards to opposite walls and slumping down to the ground.

 

With one less head injury than Hannibal, Will took only a moment to reorient himself. He crawled on hands and knees to the body in front of him and pulled his knife from the man's chest, plunging it directly into Dougherty's heart and finishing the job. He pulled the knife back out and collapsed to a seated position with a groan.

 

The part of Hannibal's brain that was still working at that point had at least enough insight to know that they needed to get out of there soon before someone spotted them. He stood up with a squeak of his plastic suit and reached to help Will to a standing position as well.

 

"Let's get the body in the trunk," Hannibal said, moving to stand by Dougherty's head. "I'll get this end, you get the legs."

 

Will nodded and moved into position. He reached to grab Dougherty's knees as Hannibal carefully put his hands under the man's armpits and hoisted him up, wrapping his arms around his chest from behind.

 

_SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!_

 

Dougherty's body slid easily down the chest of Hannibal's plastic suit, his arms extending up next to his ears, one bloody hand crudely slapping the side of Hannibal's face and the upper half of his body slumped back to the ground. Without Hannibal's support, Will lost his grip on Dougherty's legs as well and they were back to where they started.

 

"Seriously," Will said. "How did you ever manage to do this by yourself?"

 

"I never had a problem before," Hannibal answered, grabbing Dougherty by the wrists and dragging him unceremoniously down the alley towards the car. Once there, he opened the trunk and revealed the inside to be covered with a WeatherTech® trunk liner.

 

WeatherTech®! Not just for pets and spilled fast food!

 

"Don't tell me you're starting to rethink this whole murder husbands thing," Will said teasingly as they dumped the body in the trunk.

 

"I wouldn't dream of it," Hannibal said, returning to the alley to pick up the fallen brown bag from the liquor store. He opened the bag and peered inside. "Ah!" he said. "Batard Montrachet! How _literally_ unbelievable that this is what Mr.Dougherty came here to buy tonight! And conveniently unbroken as well!" He handed the bottle of wine to Will, along with the keys to the Bentley.

 

Hannibal unzipped his plastic suit and pulled it off carefully, tossing it in the trunk. He fished through the pockets of what remained of Dougherty's suit jacket until he pulled out the keys to the red Audi. "Take the car home and wait for me there," he said. "I'll get rid of his car."

 

Will nodded as he shut the trunk lid, finally allowing himself to let out a long breath and smile. He quickly pulled off his bloody gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. Putting a hand on the back of Hannibal's neck, he pulled the taller man down to him and kissed him quickly but hard. "See you at home," he said and climbed in the driver's seat of the Bentley.

 

As the car pulled away, Hannibal stuck his hands in the pockets of his suit and rocked on the balls of his feet a few times happily. He turned and literally skipped all the way to the dead man's Audi.

 

===

 

Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller were bored. They'd tested and analyzed everything they could from the Red Dragon crime scene at the house on the cliff and with no Hannibal Lecter and no current psychopathic serial killers on the loose, they didn't have a lot to do in their lab.

 

"I'm bored," Jimmy said, driving the point home. He adjusted his stance and let loose a dart, the end sticking cleanly in a tree on the large drawing of the crime scene that took up half the wall.

 

Zeller had his feet propped up on an examination table, ankles crossed. He threw dart of his own, the tip lodging itself firmly in the wall two feet beyond the edge of the drawing. "Things were a lot more exciting around here when Lecter was still alive," he agreed.

 

"Oh come on," Jimmy put his hand on his hip. "You don't honestly think that they're probably dead, do you?"

 

"Don't you?" Zeller looked up at him. "We analyzed all the evidence ourselves," he said. "All of it conclusively pointed to Will and Lecter _probably_ being dead."

 

"Conclusive or not," Jimmy said, returning his attention to their makeshift dartboard, "it seems too easy. After everything that Hannibal and Will survived over the years, to just fall off a cliff and die?" He sent another dart sailing across the room. "Kinda lame, bro," he gave the other man a disbelieving look.

 

Zeller looked thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose we could go over the evidence again," he said. "I mean we really only kind of _vaguely_ glanced over it the first time, maybe we missed something." He threw his last dart and stood, crossing the room to collect it from where it had bounced off the wall and landed in a pile of gory evidence.

 

"Maybe we should," Jimmy admitted, retrieving his darts as well. "I'd hate to think that everyone just gave Will up for dead when for all we know, he and Lecter could be holed up in some safe house Lecter has stashed along the coast."

 

The two scientists looked at each other a moment before bursting out laughing.

 

"But no really," Jimmy said. "They're probably dead."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are still enjoying this! Thanks again for the continued comments and kudos, they make my day/life!
> 
> Turns out I can't come up with random people names without them actually being names of real people that I've never heard of...so let's just go with it. Here's my disclaimer that from here on out, any names or characters that resemble real people is purely coincidental and lazy on my part. *nods* As tempting as it is to write in people I don't like just so I can kill them off, it's simply too much effort to do so.


	5. Chapter V.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the first kill for the murder husbands goes about as smoothly as the kill itself...which is to say, not smoothly at all. Hannibal and Will have their first fight, oh dear! A lovers' spat!

 

 

CHAPTER V

 

Hannibal was standing in the dark of the driveway in a fresh murder suit, hands folded patiently in front of him. How in the world he had managed to beat Will back to the house was beyond him, but he was choosing to be optimistic about the younger man's abilities and electing not to panic. Much.

 

Twenty minutes later, lights appeared on the road leading to the house. Will turned the Bentley and backed it into the driveway. Hannibal opened the garage door and pulled two orange flags out of his plastic pockets, playing the role of crossing guard, gestures letting Will know how much room he had to back up.

 

"Where have you been?" Hannibal asked as the other man climbed out of the driver's seat.

 

"I got lost," Will huffed. "I don't know my way around here and it's not like I could exactly stop and ask for directions." He gestured to his blood-soaked clothing.

 

"There's GPS in the car," Hannibal furrowed his brow. "The house is programmed into it."

 

"What's GPS?" Will asked, confused.

 

"Nevermind." Hannibal opened the trunk of the Bentley. "Let's take care of this. Bring over that wheelbarrow."

 

A couple minutes later, Michael Dougherty's body and tattered scraps of suit jacket were unceremoniously dumped into a nearby wheelbarrow.

 

"There's an entrance to the basement at the back of the garage," Hannibal said as he pulled the WeatherTech® liner out of the trunk. "Take him down there while I get this cleaned off. I'll be right down," he said as he dragged the large plastic bin outside to hose it off.

 

Will hoisted up the handles of the wheelbarrow with a loud grunt. He attempted to carefully maneuver it between the car and the wall of the garage, but the load was rather heavy and Will is a rather smol guy. The wheelbarrow veered to the right, the front corner making contact with the Bentley and leaving a long winding scratch along the pristine paint job.

 

Dropping the wheelbarrow, Will's eyes went wide and his hands flew to his mouth. He looked around quickly to make sure Hannibal wasn't still in the garage with him. Satisfied that there was no witness to the damage he'd done to the car, he redoubled his efforts.

 

Will quickly picked up the wheelbarrow handles again and carefully steered it away from the car and to the back of the garage. There he found a door, opening it to reveal a long concrete staircase descending into a dimly lit basement.

 

"How the hell am I supposed to get this down there?" he mumbled to himself.

 

Finding a wooden doorstop lying nearby, he propped open the door to the basement and lined the wheelbarrow up with the stairs.

 

"Well, here goes nothing," he said.

 

Carefully, he eased the wheelbarrow to the top of the stairs, using all of his strength to control it's painfully slow descent onto the first step.

 

_THUNK!_

 

So far so good, he eased the wheel down to the next step.

 

_THUNK!_

 

Hey, this wasn't as bad as he thought it would be! Feeling a bit more confident, he picked up the pace a bit and traversed the next three steps down.

 

_THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!_

 

The pace may have been picked up a bit too much, however, as Will felt the heavy load threatening to pull away from him.

 

"No, no, no!" he exclaimed as the smooth wood of the handles freed themselves of his grip, sending the wheelbarrow and it's deceased passenger plummeting down the hard staircase with a deafening series of bangs and crashes. Once at the bottom of the stairs, the momentum tipped the wheelbarrow onto its edge, the body inside sliding out onto the floor as the wheelbarrow came to rest precariously perched against the railing.

 

"Shitshitshit!" Will practically fell down the stairs in his haste to reach the bottom, feet sliding out from under him a couple steps from the smooth floor below. Instinctively, he reached for the nearest object to brace himself on. Unfortunately, the nearest object was the precariously perched wheelbarrow, his lunge against it knocking it loose.

 

In what felt like super slo-mo, the wheelbarrow slid off the final steps and landed with a disgustingly graphic _THUDCRUNCHSQUISH_ on Michael Dougherty's head. A cartoonish geyser of blood exploded outwards, completely covering every last inch of Will that wasn't already covered in blood.

 

Will stood silent and in shock for what felt like several minutes before the silence was broken by a loud mechanical whirring behind and to the left of him. He turned slowly as the whirring came to a stop, revealing Hannibal standing in what looked like a three-walled cage.

 

"There's an elevator, Will," he said, only the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. "How about I take it from here?"

 

Will could only nod as he turned and made his way back up the stairs.

 

===

 

An hour later, Hannibal found a freshly showered Will Graham sitting at the counter in the kitchen, a juice box in his hand. Four empty juice boxes littered the surface in front of him, the boxes smashed and distorted until every last drop had been sucked from their depths.

 

I'm sure that's a metaphor for something, but I'll leave it up to you to figure out what. Think of it like a "choose your own adventure" kinda thing.

 

"Thoughts?" Hannibal asked, removing his suit jacket and draping it over the back of a chair. He poured himself a glass of wine and took a seat opposite the other man.

 

Will took a long, noisy slurp of his juice box before setting it down in front of him. "What happened tonight?" he asked. "What happened to the synchronicity we had in taking down the Great Red Dragon?"

 

Hannibal shrugged. "Everyone has their off nights," he answered plainly, "and I am, admittedly, a bit rusty." He reached a hand over and placed it on top of Will's. "We'll get there," he said with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry."

 

"I'm not worried," Will said. "I just thought it would go differently."

 

"Did you not enjoy it?"

 

The dangerous glint that Hannibal had come to love returned to Will's eyes at that. "Oh, I enjoyed it," he said, voice low. "There's a power and a thrill that comes from taking a life that I can't deny any longer." He looked at the man across from him, his mentor in this twisted journey. "You saw it in me, and in seeing it in me, you wanted me to see it. You saw to it that I saw what you already saw and continued to see it in me even though I chose not to see what you saw, even after you made me see. My eyes were closed, refusing to see what you saw all along until I could no longer _not_ see what you see, I had to admit that I see it as well and you saw me seeing me and I couldn't pretend anymore that I didn't see what you saw from the beginning. If I pretended now that I don't see it, you would see right through my lies because you've always seen it and saw to it that I saw it too."

 

The wheels turned in Hannibal's head as he tried to process what Will was saying. "I see," he said finally.

 

"Exactly." Will nodded and took another noisy drink from his juice box.

 

Hannibal rose to stand. "Come," he said, "let's go to bed. Tomorrow, I'll make us the finest dinner two men have ever shared, to celebrate our first triumph of our new lives."

 

Will stood and took the offered hand, content.

 

===

 

The seldom realized downside to the elaborate twelve-course meals that Hannibal created was that on those days, he did nothing but cook from the time he got up in the morning until dinner was ready late in the evening.

 

Hannibal was already up and hard at work in the kitchen when Will got up at the crack of 11am. He padded downstairs in his underwear and sat watching the other man cut vegetables, eating a large bowl of Fruity Pebbles with a serving spoon. After awhile, he got bored and went back upstairs to get showered and dressed for the day.

 

Showered and dressed for the day, Will wandered the house aimlessly. He went into the sitting room to mess around on the piano, but found the key lids on both the piano and the harpsichord had been locked shut. Finding it strange, he made a mental note to ask Hannibal about that later.

 

Electing to explore the parts of the large house he hadn't been to yet, he meandered up and down the halls, opening every closed door he came across and looking inside.

 

Will had seen two bedrooms in the hallway upstairs that was full of closed doors, but he found that most of the other doors led to other bedrooms as well. The beds in each room were arranged in a variety of configurations, ranging from separate twin beds or bunk beds to varying sizes of large single beds, some with elaborate canopies and some with power cords plugging into the walls. Decorations in the rooms were anywhere from simple, subtle decor to full scale marble statues of naked men in various artsy poses.

 

Will moved to a closed door in the hall of bedrooms and turned the knob. He opened the door to look inside and froze in his tracks. All of the other rooms had been decorated in dark and muted colors, but the room in front of him now was garish in bright reds and pinks. One wall of the room and the entire ceiling were mirrors, reflecting a large heart-shaped bed covered with black satin sheets.

 

Will's eyes lingered on the wall at the head of the bed however. The entire span of the wall had been painted with an elaborate mural, a replica of God touching fingers with Man in the Sistine Chapel. However, in place of God was the likeness of Hannibal, the Man across from him looking so much like Will that Will had to wonder if had posed for the portrait at some point without realizing it. In place of the crowd of cherubs surrounding Hannibal, there was a flock of puppies of all shapes and colors.

 

Will backed slowly out of the room, pulling the door shut in front of him. In that moment, he decided to pretend he'd never seen the room and to never contemplate Hannibal having made the decision to decorate it as such.

 

Another door in the hallway led to a dressing room a lot like the one that Hannibal had prepared for Will. The closets in this room were filled with a variety of strange costumes though. One closet was filled with nothing but baby doll dresses and heeled shoes and handbags in all sorts of colors, a large portion of them black in what Will recalled was known as the "Gothic Lolita" style. Wondering if Hannibal had some strange fetish for wearing girl's clothing, Will pulled out a short dress with a particularly poofy skirt and noted that it was too small for Hannibal to wear. Returning the dress to the rack, he shut the doors and left the room wondering who exactly Hannibal intended to wear any of it.

 

Continuing his exploration of the grounds, Will headed outside to check out the large plain building beyond the back yard. He pulled open the heavy double doors with a grunt and felt along the wall for a light switch. Finding one and flipping it, he shielded his eyes at the sudden brightness as the building flooded with light.

 

Will found himself transported to Sicily. Not literally of course, but he had to look back out the yard and large white house beyond to reassure himself that he was still in South Carolina. In front of him stretched the Norman Chapel, vaulted ceilings adorned with faces of saints peering down on him. He'd been to the Norman Chapel several times during his stay in Italy and visited it countless times in his memory palace. The room in front of him with such a perfect and exact replica that he felt almost out-of-body in how out-of-place the chapel was here in the middle of a field.

 

He switched off the lights and closed the doors, going back towards the house. A check in with Hannibal told him that it was still several hours until dinner, the older man suggesting Will find a book to read in the study.

 

The study off of the foyer, as it turns out, was an exact replica of Hannibal's office back in Baltimore. The dark wood, red striped curtains, shelves of books, even the furniture was exactly the same as it had been in Maryland. At that point, Will was willing to just go with it and not be surprised anymore, so he climbed the ladder to the balcony in search of a good book to read.

 

Unfortunately, about 50% of the books on Hannibal's shelves were medical texts and books on psychology. About 35% were books in other languages. The remaining 15% consisted of classic literature, with an impressively large collection of romance novels with lewd titles. Trying to decide between _Moby Dick_ and _Moby's Dick_ , Will chose the former and returned to the sitting room, settling down on the couch to read the afternoon away.

 

===

 

" _Nom Long Somptueux, avec La Prétention et la Viande Humaine_ ," Hannibal said, setting a steaming plate in front of Will and placing one for himself. He unbuttoned the jacket of his blue three-piece suit and took his seat at the head of the table.

 

"Sounds delicious," Will said, picking up his knife and fork and contemplating where to begin with the dish.

 

Hannibal raised his wine glass to his lips to take a drink, pausing to watch as Will cut a piece of the thick portion of meat on his plate, shoving it into his mouth almost a little too eagerly. Will closed his eyes and hummed appreciatively at the taste, Hannibal smiled.

 

"I'm surprised, Will," Hannibal said, gently placing his wine glass on the table and picking up his own knife and fork, "that you are so easily accepting of my unorthodox cuisine. It's one thing to accept me and my tastes, but another to so readily participate."

 

Will froze, his sixth bite perched halfway between his plate and his mouth. He thought quickly, not wanting Hannibal to know just how much he had craved the delicious human flesh that Hannibal had served him so many times before. "I figured it would be rude to expect you to prepare separate meals for the both of us," he answered, hoping the other man wouldn't see through his obvious lie.

 

"I think you enjoy it," Hannibal smirked, seeing through Will's obvious lie. "You just don't want to admit it."

 

Will coughed. "It is not...unpleasant," he admitted, trying not to sound too fake. "After how many times I realized in retrospect I had probably been served human at your dinner table, it hardly seems worth it to feel scandalized by the taboo now."

 

"Ah, but even then, you participated willingly," Hannibal smiled knowingly. "You knew very well that I would be able to tell what kind of meat you brought to my kitchen after you claimed to have murdered Freddie Lounds. As it wasn't Miss Lounds herself, I've found myself often wondering who exactly it was that Will Graham carved up and set on fire." He looked at him expectantly.

 

Will downed the remainder of his glass of wine and quickly poured himself another, leaving this author flailing and unable to even come up with her _own_ headcanon of whoTF's body Will used in place of Freddie's.

 

"I was thinking today," Hannibal changed the subject on behalf of the other man's awkward silence, "that I might find work in the city. I imagine we'll probably be staying here for quite some time."

 

"A job?" Will asked, perplexed. "You said that you have enough money and means stashed away for several lifetimes. Why would you need to work?"

 

"A few reasons. For one, it will give us a connection to the area and the people," Hannibal answered. "Better to hide in the public than to hide in solitary and draw the scrutiny of strangers. It will also give us time to be apart, time for you to explore your hobbies and have the alone time away from me that I know you will come to crave."

 

Will smiled, surprised at Hannibal's thoughtfulness. "I'm surprised at your thoughtfulness," he smiled. "While I don't feel like I would mind your company, I have to admit that I'll probably have days where I miss my solitary life in Wolf Trap."

 

The conversation ended abruptly as neither man had anything else to say on the matter.

 

After dinner, Hannibal and Will relocated to the large upstairs balcony, perched above the front door of the house and looking east towards the distant ocean.

 

"I was reading _Moby Dick_ today," Will said.

 

"Oh?" Hannibal had one arm draped easily around the other man's shoulders, his other hand at risk of permanently fusing to the wine glass that always seemed to be in his grasp.

 

"It made me miss my boat," Will sighed. "I think I might like to get one in the future, if possible."

 

"Of course," Hannibal said. He paused for a moment before adding, "I'm sorry for the things that you had to leave behind."

 

"Oh, we didn't have a boat at the house in Maine," Will said. "Molly wouldn't let me, said it was too expensive of a thing to just have sitting around in the yard 95% of the time."

 

"That bitch," Hannibal muttered under his breath, more than slightly other-womaned.

 

"My boat was left in Italy," Will explained, "when Mason Verger's men grabbed us and brought us back to the States."

 

Hannibal tilted his head in question. "You sailed your _boat_ to Italy when you came to find me?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Seriously?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"By yourself?"

 

"...Yes?"

 

Hannibal let out a sharp laugh. "Do you realize how ridiculous that is?"

 

"No?" Will frowned.

 

"To sail your boat, across the Atlantic, by yourself," Hannibal thought for a moment. "That had to have taken you weeks!"

 

"Almost two months," Will replied. "Why does it matter?"

 

"It's just ridiculous," Hannibal laughed again. "There I was, hanging out in Italy for months on end, wondering where you were and what you were doing. No wonder it took you so long to come find me, you took the slowest possible method of getting there!"

 

"Maybe I needed time to think," Will said defensively. "I needed time to decide what to do once I found you. True, I still hadn't decided once I got there..." he admitted, "but that's beside the point! Maybe I had secretly hoped that we would leave Italy and sail around the world together, did you think of that?"

 

Hannibal gave him a disbelieving smirk, which only served to incense Will even more.

 

"And maybe we could have," Will stood and turned to face the man seated in front of him, "if you hadn't tried to eat my brain instead!" His fingers went to the long thin scar on his forehead.

 

At this, Hannibal stood to meet him. "Hey now, you pulled a knife on me before that. If Chiyoh hadn't been there, you would have killed me right there in the palazzo!"

 

Will puffed up defensively. "Maybe I was just ready to defend myself against muggers!"

 

"Oh yes," Hannibal rolled his eyes, "because art gallery muggings is all the craze."

 

"Face it, you were just too busy playing house with _Bedelia_ ," Will said the name with more than just a little contempt, "to notice how she was manipulating you into killing me. If you would have just killed her in the first place, we could have been sailing around the world for the past 3 years, sending postcards to Jack and Alana."

 

"Don't you talk to _me_ about _playing house_ ," Hannibal's eyes narrowed. "I spent three very long years locked up in a mental institution, waiting for you while you _played house_ with your cute little wife and fake son. You were off attending baseball games and PTA meetings while I was poked and prodded like some sort of animal."

 

"You turned _yourself_ in," Will pointed out.

 

"Because you manipulated me to do so!"

 

"Yes, I manipulated you!" Will threw his hands up.   "You're just bitter that you, the master of manipulation himself, could fall so easily for my trap. The great _Hannibal the Cannibal_ got a taste of his own medicine!"

 

At that, Hannibal's fists clenched. " _Don't_ call me that," he hissed.

 

"Hannibal the Cannibal! Hannibal the Cannibal!" Will danced around him pettishly. "Poor little Hannibal the Cannibal, locked up in a cell for three years! Far from his harpsichord and his dinner parties and his fancy suits." Will punctuated the last by ruffling the red pocket square sticking out of Hannibal's suit jacket.

 

Hannibal looked down at the red fabric now hanging limply out of his breast pocket. "You did _not_ just do that," he growled as if he had just been given the ultimate offense. He glared proverbial daggers. "Maybe I _should_ have eaten you when I had the chance," he spat. "You could never be on _my_ level."

 

Will's face turned red as he searched for the perfect retort. "You know what?" he turned to go back into the house. "Eat a dick, Hannibal the Cannibal!" He spun to face the other man, finger leveled at him. "EAT A DICK!" He stormed into the house and slammed the door.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, the only reason I decided that they were going to get in a fight at all is because the idea of Will telling Hannibal to "eat a dick" was the funniest thought I'd had all week and I wanted to use it. I live a simple life.


	6. Chapter VI.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will make up after their first fight and attempt to spice up their love life a bit. We see how good ol' Bedelia is doing these days and Hannibal gets a job!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finding myself increasingly surprised by how much sap I'm putting into this story. Unintentionally, mind you. Perhaps it's cause Hannigram just makes it sooo easy.
> 
> Anyhoo, this chapter starts with another seemingly "serious" scene that is anything BUT serious and I still pray that at least some of you understand why.

 

 

CHAPTER VI

 

Hannibal lie awake on the full size bed in the _Hannibal Needs to be Alone_ bedroom. He was clothed in soft plaid pajama pants and a sweater, hands laced behind his head on the pillow as he stared at the blank ceiling.

 

Never one for regrets, Hannibal was surprised to find that he regretted the harsh words he had said to Will earlier in the evening. If he wanted to admit it to himself, it was probably inevitable that the two men would argue at some point. With so much history and heartache between the two of them, it was unavoidable that some of the past resentments might boil to the surface.

 

Looking back on the argument now, Hannibal was struck by how petty it had been, the two of them grasping at any past grievance in vain attempts to anger one another. How pointless.

 

Despite the fact that they'd only had a few nights together so far, Hannibal was most struck by how much he found himself missing Will's company in the bed next to him. Resigned to do the proper thing and apologize, he was pushing himself to a seated position when there came a soft knock on the door.

 

"Can I come in?" Will asked, pushing his way into the room cautiously. Clad in a t-shirt and boxers, he stood in the doorway and ran a hand through his hair uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at the man on the bed. "You really should label the rooms," he managed a small smile, "I had to knock on five doors before I found you."

 

"I was just about to come find you," Hannibal admitted, remaining seated on the bed. "I wanted to apologize."

 

" _I_ should apologize," Will said, eyes finally rising from the floor. "I flew off at you for no real reason. The past is the past, I need to accept that. We've both made mistakes and said things we can't take back."

 

"A lovers' quarrel," Hannibal stated simply. "It was most likely inevitable. We are both continuing to discover one another in our new life together, as a newly married couple might discover one another anew after the wedding night. It is a tale as old as time."

 

Will laughed, a genuine smile spreading on his face as he moved to sit on the bed opposite Hannibal. "We're like a newly married couple," he repeated with a chuckle. "That's true as it could be."

 

"Do you remember when we first met and began to know one another, Will?" Hannibal asked, in the mood to reminisce. "When we first became friends?"

 

" _Barely_ even friends," Will corrected with a half smile. "I originally wanted nothing to do with you." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, remembering. "But then, unexpectedly, I began to bend, to yield to you. I don't know what it was that caused it, just a little change."

 

"Small to say the least," Hannibal nodded. "You were wary of me and I was just beginning to explore the idea of friendship. I think we were both a little scared."

 

Will laughed again. "Neither one prepared for _this_ eventuality." He gestured vaguely at the two of them and the house around them. "That we would find ourselves here," he added quietly.

 

"We are ever just the same, my dear Will," Hannibal smiled at him, taking Will's hand in his own. "And I am sure that there will be ever a surprise between us."

 

"Ha, ever just as sure as the sun will rise," Will grinned. He reached a hand up to brush a few stray strands of Hannibal's hair from his forehead. "Despite everything that makes us _not_ an ordinary couple, we really are as clichéd as newlyweds. Friends and enemies to lovers, a tale as old as time indeed."

 

"Tune as old as song," Hannibal agreed. "There will be disagreements between us, but they will only serve to strengthen our bond. It's bittersweet and strange, finding you can change, learning you were wrong. I was wrong, Will, and I apologize."

 

Hannibal pulled Will to him, settling back against the pillow with the younger man huddled against his side. They lie in silence for several long minutes, listening only to the soft breathing of one another.

 

Will was once again amazed to find himself here, in this moment, with the one person he never imagined he would be spending his life. Despite that, in that moment, he was absolutely certain that there was no one else he should find himself with. As certain as the sun, rising in the east, he knew that this was where he was meant to be. It really was a tale as old as time. A song as old as rhyme itself.

 

No one in the world may ever understand what was in Will's heart, but Hannibal understood.

 

Hannibal _knew_.

 

And it gave Will more comfort and contentment than he could possibly describe to know that Hannibal could see the unmistakable beauty of the beast within him.

 

===

 

Bedelia du Maurier sat back in her plush armchair, extending her feet to rest on the footstool in front of her in a subtle reminder to the reader that she still has both of her legs at this point. She kicked off her heels and took a long drink from the bottle of brandy she clutched in her hand, having decided to completely forego using a glass anymore.

 

She turned the volume up on the news report on TV.

 

"A nationwide manhunt is still _not_ underway tonight as the search _doesn't_ continue for escaped fugitive Hannibal Lecter," the reporter reported. "Lecter, presumed probably dead by the authorities, is thought to have plummeted to his death from a rocky cliff in eastern Virginia shortly after killing the man known as the Tooth Fairy. Will Graham, a former FBI profiler, is believed to have died with Lecter in what is thought to be a botched FBI plan to apprehend the Tooth Fairy. When pressed, Jack Crawford - head of the FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit - had this to say."

 

The screen cut away from the studio to a recorded clip of Jack Crawford climbing into the driver's seat of a large black SUV, a crowd of reporters thrusting microphones at him, camera flashes reflecting off the vehicle.

 

"Mr.Crawford!" someone's voice was heard calling from off-camera. "What do you have to say to the people who are speculating that Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham might still be alive?!"

 

"Speculate _this_!" Jack bellowed, the gestures he was making with his hands were pixelized.

 

Back to the reporter in the studio, she shuffled one of the papers in front of her to the bottom of a stack. "While there is enough lack of evidence to suggest that Lecter and Graham may have survived the fall, citizens can rest easy knowing that they are probably dead."

 

Bedelia switched off the TV and downed another swig of brandy. "Fools," she said aloud to the silence.

 

She stood and took a long drink, pacing around the room. The evidence overwhelmingly pointed at Hannibal probably being dead, but Bedelia knew him well enough to know that nothing as simple as being probably dead could stop a man like Hannibal Lecter.

 

Hannibal would come for her, that much was certain. She glanced at her packed bags, sitting ready by the front door, and took a drink. She could run, she could hide, but she knew he would find her. Whether five minutes or five years from now, whether at her home here in Baltimore or a secluded villa in some other country, one day Hannibal would appear on her doorstep.

 

She slumped back into her chair, one leg draped over the arm. She should have left as soon as Will had told her his ridiculous plan. Playing their final conversation over in her head, she cursed herself for not having listened to the threats in his words.

 

When Will had told her his plan to help Hannibal not-so-fake escape, she had assumed that Will intended to kill Hannibal and quite possibly himself as well. "Can't live with him, can't live without him," she'd said and Will had all but agreed.

 

"Ready or not, here he comes," Will had said before leaving the room. Bedelia had assumed he was being poetic, referring to Hannibal's imminent release upon the world shortly before Will would kill him.

 

In retrospect, she realized with another drink, she probably should've taken him more seriously when he popped his head back in the room after that and said, "I mean that literally, he's going to come and eat you. I'll probably help him."

 

 _Hindsight and all that_ , Bedelia thought, downing the rest of the bottle of brandy.

 

Either way, there was no use in trying to escape now. Maybe she would catch Hannibal and Will off-guard by not running, by being prepared for them. She opened up her laptop and Googled "self-defense classes."

 

===

 

The next couple days passed in domestic bliss for our two murder husbands. Michael Dougherty provided enough organs and meat for several meals, allowing Hannibal and Will to simply stay home and enjoy one another's company.

 

"Do you still have nightmares, Will?"

 

One afternoon found the two men sitting in the replica study, seated in the chairs and positions exactly as they had found themselves countless times before during therapy in Baltimore. Hannibal sat in one of his more obnoxiously patterned suits, legs crossed at the knees, hands folded in his lap.

 

Will's relaxed position, reclining in his chair with hands resting on the arms, belied the unease he felt at finding himself in this all-too-familiar situation. "Every once in awhile," he answered, "but not like I used to."

 

"Do you still dream of killing me?" Hannibal's expression didn't change, all business.

 

Will shrugged. "No, I think it's obvious I'm with you for the long haul."

 

Hannibal's lips quirked in a smile. After a long moment, he tore his eyes from the man across from him and picked up a stack of large cards on the table next to his chair. "I'd like you to look at some inkblots, Will," he said, standing and crossing to hand them to the younger man.

 

"Inkblots?" Will asked incredulously, taking the stack of cards anyways. "A bit uncreative isn't it, Dr.Lecter?"

 

"What we see in inkblots can tell a lot about our unconscious minds," Hannibal explained, returning to his earlier seated position. "What we see in and between the black smudges on the page serve as parallels to what can be found in and between the black smudges of our minds." He picked up his leather notebook and a pen. "Tell me, Will. What do you see?"

 

Will sighed but relented, turning over the first card in the stack. "I see a bat."

 

"What a remarkably clichéd answer," the psychiatrist nodded, making a mark with his pen. "The deepest parts of your psyche are coming to terms with the darkness found there."

 

Will rolled his eyes and flipped over the next card. "This one looks like a demon."

 

"Obviously an indication that you are coming to terms with your new life," another nod. "Go on."

 

Will flipped over the next card. "Oh, come on!" he exclaimed. "Hannibal!"

 

Hannibal didn't look up from his notebook. "What do you see, Will?"

 

"I see you fucking me in the ass," Will looked at the card again and grimaced.

 

"Our interpretation of what we see in the cards can point to the deep-seated desires of our minds."

 

"There's no interpretation here!" Will said, exasperated. "This is literally a stick figure drawing of you fucking me in the ass! There are even labels with our names over our heads!"

 

"And how does that make you feel, Will?" Hannibal's expression maintained its professionalism, his amusement only evident in the slight upturn of one corner of his mouth.

 

Will dropped the stack of cards on the table next to his chair. "Ok, this isn't working. Role-playing is supposed to be where you pretend to be something you're not. This is just like a horrible nightmarish version of the sessions we used to have."

 

Hannibal put a finger to his mouth in thought. "Hmm, I suppose this is a bit too familiar," he conceded, putting his notebook and pen back on the table next to him. Uncrossing his legs and leaning towards the other man, he winked. "How about I be the big mean serial killer and you be the dirty little FBI profiler?"

 

"Again, basically the truth," Will sighed.

 

"I'll be the dashing emergency room surgeon and you can be my helpless patient, in desperate need of some deep probing?"

 

"Better, but still too close to reality."

 

"How about this then...I'm Hannibal Crawford, head of the FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit and you're my wayward apprentice with a little too much in common with the men we hunt?"

 

"Ok, I'm out of here."

 

Will stood and made a beeline out of the room. Hannibal absently scratched at some shmutz on the arm of his chair with a fingernail. "I thought it was a good idea," he said to the empty room.

 

===

 

The next morning, Hannibal peered over the top of his newspaper. As usual, Will was hunched over his giant bowl of Fruity Pebbles, milk dribbling off of his beard as he sucked on a juice box and read the comics page. Hannibal never ceased to be overcome with fondness for the man across from him, the newspaper conveniently hiding his wide smile and staring eyes.

 

Hannibal folded his newspaper and set it aside, clearing his throat. "I think I will go find a job today," he said.

 

"Oh?" Will raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to _create_ a position for yourself again? Like you did in Italy?"

 

"No, no," Hannibal waved a hand dismissively. "I don't want to bring attention to the area, so I will find an already open position here." Unable to keep his secret quiet any longer, he said, "In the meantime, I got a gift for you while I was out yesterday."

 

"A gift?" Will asked. "I don't think you've ever gotten me a gift before."

 

"You mean, aside from this house and all of your clothes and a new identity?" Hannibal asked, only slightly miffed that Will didn't see these things as the gifts they were. "Then no, I suppose I haven't."

 

He stood and offered a hand to Will, who took it and allowed himself to be led to a door that he knew belonged to a small sun porch on the back of the house. The room had been empty save for a couple of chairs the other times Will had looked in there, but now there was a rustic, but sturdy, wooden desk against one wall. On it was spread everything a fly fisherman could ever want or need for making lures, along with several fishing poles on a rack to the side.

 

Will's eyes were wide and he was so surprised by the fishing gear that he practically peed himself in fright when a shaggy black mound underneath the desk lifted its head and barked.

 

Mouth agape, Will could only look back and forth between the dog and the man next to him in shock.

 

"A stray," Hannibal beamed proudly. "I found him living in the alley behind the 7-11 and I knew that he should be yours. I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of naming this one, as I was the one to rescue him." He bowed slightly and waved his hand towards the dog in introduction. "Will, meet Archimedes."

 

"Hey there, Archie!" Will was grinning from ear to ear as he dropped to his knees and started enthusiastically petting and scratching the dog's head with both hands. "How are you doing, buddy?"

 

"That's, uh..." Hannibal coughed. "Archimedes," he corrected. "Not Archie."

 

"You're a pretty boy, aren't you, Archie?" Will ignored him. "Yes you are!"

 

Hannibal pursed his lips, wondering if he was already beginning to regret this whole dog thing.

 

Archie's tongue hung out of his mouth, panting happily as he half-crawled into Will's lap and rested his chin on his paws. Will was so caught up in his excitement over the dog that he didn't acknowledge the older man standing in the doorway for several minutes.

 

Hannibal turned to leave the room when he felt a hand on his arm. "Hannibal."

 

He turned to see Will standing mere inches away from him, eyes filled with genuine appreciation. "I don't know what to say," he said. "Thank you, for all of this."

 

Hannibal put a hand on Will's cheek, thumb running along the soft flesh below his eye. "For you, my dear Will," he said, "anything."

 

===

 

It was late in the afternoon when Will heard the front door open and close, signaling Hannibal's return from his job search. Will quickly snipped the string on the lure he'd just finished tying and carefully extricated his feet out from under the snoring dog beneath the desk.

 

He rushed into the kitchen just in time to see Hannibal set down his briefcase and begin to remove his suit jacket.

 

"How did it go?" Will asked. "Any luck?"

 

"I was very successful," Hannibal said, folding his jacket over the back of a chair. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a juice box, handing it to the other man. He poured himself a glass of wine and held it up in a toast. "I begin tomorrow morning."

 

"Congratulations," Will said, raising his juice box as well, then taking a long drink.

 

"You're looking at the newest Door Greeter at the local Walmart," Hannibal radiated pride.

 

Will literally spit his entire mouthful of juice in an impressive spray across the kitchen, the red liquid giving the impression of a crime scene in the previously clean room. "Wal-Walmart???" he choked out.

 

"Yes," Hannibal continued to sip his wine casually. "Far beyond notice and unnecessary scrutiny."  


"As someone who is notorious for having no patience for the rude, do you really think that's a good idea?" Will asked.

 

The tip of Hannibal's tongue wet his lips as he carefully set his glass on the counter, a little taken aback. "Are you not supportive of my endeavors, Will?"

 

"Hey, if that's what you want to do," Will put his hands up defensively and tried not to laugh. "Have at it."

 

"Good," Hannibal said, smiling once again. "I would hate to have to return the stunning blue suit I bought for my first day."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took me 6 chapters, but we finally reached the very first thing I wrote for this story...which was the role-playing scene in the study. It was my inspiration for the tone of this whole thing, though I seem to have taken to drawing it out for the sake of sap and something mildly resembling a plot. Either way, I'm so happy I'm finally posting that part!
> 
> I'm attempting to get more involved in the fandom on tumblr, so I'm always looking for new friends! You can find me at [MaggieJG](http://maggiejg.tumblr.com/) if you're so inclined! XD


	7. Chapter VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's first day at this new job and Will cooks dinner to show his support! Team Sassy Science present some shocking new evidence in regards to the murder husbands' probable death and Hannibal sets him and Will up on a sexy date with a couple of guys from work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found it funny how you can probably figure out what part of the country I'm from by the words I use for several things in this chapter. Unintentional, but it practically serves as one of those "What's your dialect?" quizzes.

 

 

CHAPTER VII

 

Hannibal was enjoying his first day as a Walmart door greeter. True, he'd only been there for an hour, but he was optimistic.

 

"I hope you have a wonderful day," he said congenially as a middle-aged man in a wife-beater and camo cargo shorts gave him a somewhat perplexed look-over.

 

"Yeah, thanks," the man said, glancing back at Hannibal as if he'd been dressed in a particularly offensive manner.

 

Hannibal looked down at his clothing. In keeping with the blue dress code of the business, he'd purchased a new dark blue suit with light pinstriping. He adjusted his bright yellow pocket square and the nametag magnetically pinned to his jacket pocket.

 

Dave, the manager directly in charge of Hannibal's position at the store, approached with a look of disbelief. "You know, Hank," he said slowly, "that's not exactly what we had in mind for the dress code. It's a bit...much."

 

Hannibal picked a piece of lint off of his sleeve. "One must always strive to look one's best."

 

"Yeah, but this is Walmart," Dave pointed out. "Polo shirts are about as nice as it gets around here."

 

Hannibal threw up a little in his mouth.

 

A little old lady slowly approaching with an overloaded cart was a happy distraction from the horrifying idea of wearing a polo shirt. Hannibal rushed forward to greet her. "Here, allow me to get that for you," he said, stepping on the censor for the automatic door. Once it opened, he put his hand on it as if to keep it from closing.

 

"Why thank you, sonny!" the little old lady croaked out, eyeing Hannibal like the impeccably dressed piece of man candy he was.

 

When the doors were sliding shut behind her, Dave spoke again. "They're automatic doors, Hank. The customers can open 'em themselves."

 

"I'm only trying to be polite," Hannibal replied, turning to call "Welcome to Walmart!" to a woman who had just entered the store carrying a small child.

 

Dave rolled his eyes and walked away.

 

===

 

A couple hours later, Hannibal was bending to straighten a stack of hand baskets when the entry door slid open next to him.

 

"Good morning," he straightened to greet the new customer. "Welcome to Wa-" he trailed off when he saw that it was Will standing in front of him, hands in his pockets and looking rather awkward. "Will," he said. "What brings you here? Is everything all right?"

 

"No, everything's fine," Will's eyes swept the area at the front of the store, amazed that Hannibal managed to look even _more_ out of place than he had anticipated he would. Returning his gaze to the tall man in front of him, he smiled. "Just thought I'd come see how your first day was going. Show my support and all that."

 

A smile spread across Hannibal's face. "That's very thoughtful of you, Will," he said. He turned and offered a greeting as a customer passed by. "It is going very well," he said to Will. "Though it feels a bit like I am working in a grocery store."

 

Will laughed. "It _is_ a grocery store," he said, "technically." He made his face serious for a moment. "Please don't eat anyone on your first day, Hannibal," he said quietly. "Remember you want to keep a low-" he looked over the other man's suit, "-ish profile."

 

"I know, I'm merely window shopping, as it were." Hannibal reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small card. "It turns out that I now have a discount on everything that is sold here," he said. "If there's anything you want or need since you're here, simply present this card at the check out and they will give you my discount."

 

Will took the card and put it in his pocket. "Yeah, I might look around a bit," he said. "Have fun," he smirked and headed off into the store.

 

===

 

Hannibal's shift was almost over when Will finally returned to the front of the store, pushing a cart in front of him and trailing another behind, both almost literally overflowing with items in bags. Will's hair was a mess and his eyes were wide, like he'd kept himself awake for three days straight on a diet of nothing but coffee and Red Bull.

 

"Good Lord!" Hannibal exclaimed upon seeing the other man. "I didn't expect you to buy half of the store."

 

"But, but-" Will twitched, "the deals! The deals are so good! And with a discount on top of it?!" He gestured to the carts on either side of him. "All of this suddenly seemed _extremely_ necessary to our lives!"

 

Hannibal reached into a bag and pulled out a package of hamster cage substrate. "We don't even have a hamster, Will," he said.

 

"I know, I know," Will admitted, "but it was such a great price! I thought it couldn't hurt to have some on hand, right? In case we ever decided to _get_ a hamster???"

 

"Where would you like this, sir?" Hannibal and Will turned to see an employee pushing a cart that looked to be filled with dog beds and dog toys, his question directed at the younger man.

 

"Oh, follow me," Will said, navigating his carts towards the exit. "We'll just get this loaded in the car."

 

Hannibal watched, dumbfounded as three heavily-laden carts were pushed across the parking lot towards his Bentley.

 

"Friend of yours?" Dave asked, coming up from behind him.

 

"Ah, yes," Hannibal responded with a smile. "That is Wilson, my life partner." He allowed himself a little shudder of happiness at having said those words aloud for the first time.

 

"Well, your shift is about up," Dave pretended he hadn't heard that. "Why don't you head to the back and go ahead and clock out. Good work today, Hank. See you Friday."

 

When Hannibal arrived at home, he found the dining room table and kitchen counters completely covered in white plastic Walmart bags. Will was dragging a large black trash bag behind him, grabbing fistfuls of plastic bags and stuffing them in.

 

"We need more cabinet space," Will said, finishing clearing the island in the kitchen of white plastic.

 

"Perhaps we'll have to repurpose one of the bedrooms for all of your Walmart purchases," Hannibal suggested, jokingly.

 

"Can we?" Will totally didn't get that he was joking. "Cause I saw some larger items I'd really like to get next time you're working."

 

Hannibal helped Will finish cleaning up all of the empty plastic bags and then changed out of his work suit into one of his casual, three-piece, lay-around-the-house suits. The two men met back in the kitchen, glass of wine and juice box in hand.

 

"So what would you like for dinner tonight?" Hannibal asked. "I thought I could-"

 

Will put up his hand to interrupt the other man. "No, no," he said. "You worked hard today. Tonight, I'll be making dinner for both of us."

 

"Oh Will, I'd really rather you didn't," Hannibal said, _really_ rathering that Will didn't.

 

"No, it's no trouble," Will insisted, shaking his head. "I want to."

 

"Please, allow me to cook," Hannibal also insisted. "You know how much I enjoy it."

 

"I want to treat _you_ tonight!"

 

"I appreciate the gesture, but I assure you that it is unnecessary."

 

Will put his fists on his hips and pouted. "Hannibal, you're not going to argue this with me. I'm cooking tonight, end of story."

 

Hannibal sat down on one of the kitchen stools with a huff, resigned that this wasn't an argument that he would win and praying that Will would at least manage to not poison the both of them. "Fine," he sighed.

 

"Good!" Will turned and opened one of the cabinets, revealing a line of identical yellow boxes. He took one down and placed it on the counter in front of the other man. "I'll be making tacos tonight!" he said enthusiastically.

 

Hannibal picked up the box of "Taco Dinner Kit" and looked at it with a grimace that he tried hard to hide. "How many of these did you buy, Will?" he asked.

 

"Ten!" Will grinned. "They were on sale. Buy eight, get two free. I couldn't resist."

 

"I'm sure you couldn't," Hannibal set the box down and finished the rest of his glass of wine in one drink. He grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass to the brim.

 

Will tore open the yellow box and pulled out the contents. Holding up two plastic-wrapped packages, he asked, "Crunchy tacos or soft tacos?"

 

Hannibal opened his mouth and poured his entire wine glass down his throat, setting the glass aside to drink straight from the bottle.

 

"Both, I think," Will looked at the packages in his hands, deep in thought. "Yes, I think both would be a nice variety." He crossed the kitchen to open the fridge. "What kind of tacos do you like?" he asked. "Beef? Pork? Chicken? I prefer fish myself, but I wasn't happy with Walmart's selection and didn't end up buying any."

 

"The last time I had tacos," Hannibal's words were beginning to slur as he opened another bottle of wine, "I was on the Gulf of California, a señorita on either side of me and one on the plate before me."

 

"Well, Walmart was fresh out of señorita," Will said, taking a package of steak out of the fridge, "and I think I'll leave what remains of Mr.Dougherty for you to prepare. Beef it is then." He looked through a couple cabinets before finding one stocked with canned goods he'd bought earlier in the day. "Do you like beans?" he asked, taking down a can. "I like beans. Do we have a can opener?"

 

Forty-five minutes later, Hannibal was seated at the dining room table, spreading his napkin across his lap gingerly and focusing on staying upright in his chair after the three bottles of wine he'd use to distract himself from Will's abhorrent knife skills.

 

Will practically danced into the dining room, rather proud of the beautiful plating he had achieved with his Mexican cuisine. "Ta da!" he said with a flourish, setting the plates on the table.

 

Hannibal looked down at the plate in front of him and was presented with a line of three tacos: one crunchy, one soft, and one that was a strange combination of the two with a crunchy taco wrapped in a soft tortilla with a layer of refried beans between.

 

"They make them like that at Taco Bell," Will said, sitting down with a proud grin.

 

Next to the tacos was a perfectly round, ice-cream-scooped ball of some soft yellow cakey substance that undoubtedly came from a packaged mix. At the edge of the plate was an inappropriate sprig of parsley and rosemary with two blueberries and a cherry tomato.

 

"I took some pointers from the many beautiful dishes you've prepared for me over the years," Will positively beamed as he watched the other man admire the dish before him.

 

 _Bless his little heart_ , Hannibal thought drunkenly. _At least he tried_.

 

===

 

"Why are we here, guys?" Jack Crawford asked, looking at his watch in annoyance. Somewhere out there, there was a lonely bottle of whiskey and he desperately needed to be drinking it.

 

Jack was standing in the lab at FBI headquarters, along with Jimmy Price, Brian Zeller, and a recently-returned-to-the-country Alana Bloom.

 

"And more importantly, why is _she_ here?" Jack pointed an accusing finger at Freddie Lounds, who was trying unsuccessfully to blend in with the stark white environment with her bright red hair and even brighter and redder coat.

 

"We didn't invite her," Brian Zeller frowned.

 

Freddie put her hands up in front of her and waved them around fluidly. "You didn't see anything!" she did her best magician voice.

 

"Whatever," Jack turned back to the actual FBI employees in front of him. "Why are any of us here?"

 

"As you know," Jimmy Price began, "things have been pretty slow around here since Will and Dr.Lecter did their swan dive into the Atlantic."

 

Zeller made a falling hand motion and made a cartoony plummeting sound with his mouth.

 

Ignoring him, Jimmy continued. "With some people speculating that Will and Hannibal may have survived the fall," he said, "we thought maybe we should look at the evidence a little harder than we did before."

 

"Which is to say, look at it at all," Zeller added.

 

They were gathered around a table in the center of the room, a large white sheet covering whatever was underneath. Jimmy grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it off with a grand gesture, tossing it to the side and flipping a switch.

 

In front of them now was a 100% accurate scale model of the cliff that Hannibal and Will had thrown themselves from. The glass-walled house sat perched atop a stone cliff, the water below rushing to and from the rocks, the waves propelled by a built-in motor.

 

"You made this?!" Alana asked in disbelief.

 

"Do you like it?" Zeller asked, all smiles and desperately looking for approval for his hard work. "Jimmy did the fabricating and I wired the motor and effects."

 

"What we have here is a 100% accurate scale model of the cliff that Hannibal and Will threw themselves from," Jimmy reiterated unnecessarily. He pulled out two small doll-like figures from the pocket of his white jacket. "And here we have 100% accurate scale models of Hannibal and Will."

 

"We made them out of rat bones and ground beef," Zeller explained, nodding. "I made the models, Jimmy sewed their clothes. Here you can see one is wearing a plaid shirt and glasses while the other is sporting a rather stylish suit."

 

Freddie Lounds was snapping pictures like there was no tomorrow.

 

"Now if we take into consideration the angle of the earth and the location of the moon at the approximate time that Hannibal and Will were there," Jimmy said as he adjusted some dials on the edge of the table, "this should be an accurate approximation of the tide at the time of their fall."

 

Zeller placed the creepy little versions of Hannibal and Will at the edge of the cliff and let go. The two dolls plunged down the sheer cliff face into the water below. The Hannibal doll floated to the surface completely intact while the Will doll exploded into a hundred bits of splintered bones and chunks of meat.

 

Jimmy and Brian looked up at the others, grinning expectantly.

 

"So...what does this tell us then?" Jack asked after a minute.

 

"This tells us that when you take into consideration all of the factors and all of the evidence," Jimmy said, "Hannibal and Will are probably dead."

 

Alana picked up bits of the Will doll's remains and looked at it grimly. "I hate to say it," she hated to say, "but I think they're right. There's no way they could have survived this." A piece of the meat fell off the bone in her hand and landed with a graphic _splat_ on the table.

 

Freddie had moved closer to take pictures and pointed at the Hannibal doll, floating in one piece up against a boat that Price had randomly included in the model. "But what about that one?" Freddie asked.

 

"That little guy?" Zeller asked with a wink. "Oh, don't worry about that little guy."

 

===

 

A couple weeks later, Hannibal was sitting in the break room at work, delicately eating the sandwich he'd prepared himself that morning of leftover dinner from the night before. They'd finished off the remaining Michael Dougherty in the fridge, it would be time to hunt again soon.

 

"Hey, Hank," a voice came up behind him, belonging to a tall thin man who sat down at the table next to Hannibal.

 

"Good afternoon, Phil," he replied. "And to you, Steve," he greeted the short, heavyset man that sat down across from them.

 

Phil and Steve were good southern boys and the closest thing to work friends that Hannibal had made in his short time at Walmart. Most of the employees avoided him, his lavish blue suits appropriately giving him the air of the eccentric. Phil and Steve were a bit outcast from the other employees as well, Hannibal had already heard them referred to as "nerds" several times.

 

Hannibal's thoughts returned to the excitement of an impending hunt, eager to again see Will drenched in the blood of another human being. Hannibal had already sniffed out a couple possible targets from among the Walmart patrons, it wouldn't be difficult at all to choose one. He longed to see the bestial glint in Will's eyes, the way his pupils dilated and his breath caught in his throat.

 

Hannibal was shaken from his reverie by the conversation taking place next to him, having only been half-listening.

 

"I'm sorry, gentlemen," he said, "but what is this 'DND' that you're referring to?"

 

"Dungeons and Dragons," Steve explained. "It's a role-playing game."

 

"Ahh," Hannibal mused, "I see. My life partner Wilson and I have had some interest in role-playing. Is it something that we would be able to participate in as well?"

 

"You want to RP?" Phil asked, surprised. Hank was a nice guy and Phil and Steve had found no reason to avoid him like everyone else did, but Phil was admittedly shocked to find that Hank was secretly a nerd.

 

"Actually," Steve cut in, "that would be great! Our buddy Jeff dropped out, so it's down to only three of us. Phil is the DM and it's kinda boring with only two players."

 

"We were thinking of starting a new campaign soon," Phil said. "If you and Wilson want to make characters and join, that'd be great. We get together on Tuesday nights."

 

"Ah, splendid!" Hannibal slapped the table jovially. "Tuesday evenings are Taco Tuesdays at our home, I'd be happy to host our role-playing party!"

 

And with that, they made plans to meet at Hannibal and Will's home the next Tuesday evening at 6pm for tacos and role-playing. Surely nothing could possibly go wrong!

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even kidding, I once had to spend 15 minutes in a Target convincing my husband that just because "buy 8 taco dinner kits, get 2 free" is a really good deal...it _doesn't_ mean we should actually buy 10 taco dinner kits! I won the argument, but he still holds the missed opportunity for an amazing bargain against me.


	8. Chapter VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will's second kill as murder husbands goes...slightly? better? than the first one? And before we know it, it's Taco Tuesday and Hannibal's work buddies come over for some Dungeons and Dragons!

 

 

CHAPTER VIII

 

After Will informed him that Dungeons and Dragons is "not _that_ kind of role-playing," Hannibal let the disappointment only briefly cross his face before saying, "Well then consider it a social experiment."

 

Will still wasn't convinced that this was a good idea. "I'm still not convinced that this is a good idea," he said. "Are you sure we should be inviting people over while we're on the run?"

 

"Hiding in plain sight," Hannibal said. "It's the best place to hide as no one suspects the man right in front of them. I made no attempts to stay out of the public during my time in Italy."

 

"Yeah, and look at how fast you were _found_ in Italy."

 

"Pah," Hannibal did the dismissive hand wave thing. "That's because I _wanted_ to be found."

 

"Therefore," Will said slowly, "the logic that you used in Italy doesn't apply to this situation at all. Unless, of course, you want to be found now?"

 

"Oh, good GOD, no!" Hannibal was so aghast that he broke character. "The only way anyone is getting me back into a jumpsuit is if I'm dead!"

 

"I just hope that this whole dinner party doesn't end with your co-workers dead in our dining room," Will grumbled.

 

"Unless you plan on making our past lives a topic of discussion during dinner, or our guests happen upon my shrine of all the news articles ever written about either one of us,-"

 

"Wait, you have a shrine of-"

 

"-I don't see any reason why we can't have a perfectly civil and enjoyable evening."

 

Will relented, letting out a long sigh. "If you say so."

 

"Meanwhile," Hannibal clapped his hands together, "the more pressing issue at hand is dinner. With our supply of fresh meat running low, I believe I have found an excellent target for our next adventure. It seems my choice of occupation affords us more than just a convenient discount."

 

"Ok, I'll bite," Will raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

 

"His name is José Enriquez and he is a very naughty boy for many reasons that you should just take my word on," Hannibal said.

 

"Right," Will nodded. "Seems legit."

 

"He lives alone and keeps to a very specific schedule." Hannibal's grin grew at the corners, curling up like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. "He should prove to be an easy and rewarding prey."

 

===

 

The next evening, Hannibal and Will were seated on the couch in the living room of José Enriquez's apartment. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight outside the windows. The layout of the apartment meant that even if Mr.Enriquez turned on the lights as soon as he entered, he wouldn't see the two intruders until he had already passed them.

 

_Squeak. Squeak. Squeak._

"I can't believe you convinced me to wear this thing," Will whispered, tugging at the sleeves of his plastic murder suit.

 

"Now Will," Hannibal patted the other man's knee, "you promised me you would try it."

 

_Squeak. Squeak._

 

"I feel like the noise alone is going to give us away." Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _Squeak. Squeak. Squeak._ "How is it that you don't make any noise when you move?"

 

"I have the grace of a feline," Hannibal inspected his fingernails through his plastic gloves, huffing a breath on them and polishing them against his chest completely without irony.

 

Will opened his mouth to remind Hannibal of the not-so-graceful tumble down the stairs he'd witnessed that morning when they heard the sound of a key entering the lock of the front door.

 

The two men practically held their breath as they heard the front door open and close, the lock and chain sliding into place. José Enriquez didn't stop to turn on the light, crossing the apartment in the dark and walking right in front of the couch.

 

Hannibal sprang into action, jumping up to grab Enriquez from behind, wrapping his arms around his neck in an attempt to pull him to the ground.

 

As quickly as Hannibal had jumped on the man though, he found himself lying flat on his back in the middle of what remained of the coffee table. When he'd felt the man on his back, Enriquez had reached back and grabbed the collar of Hannibal's plastic suit, flipping him over his head and onto the table in front of him. Hannibal's back crashed through the splinters of the table and Enriquez somersaulted to the floor, pinning the larger man with an arm bar.

 

A stunned Will was a moment late in reacting. He finally sprang to his feet and rushed forward, knife in hand. Enriquez released Hannibal's arm and rolled out of the way, expertly disarming Will and flinging the knife across the room, where it stuck in the wall just above Enriquez's large collection of Judo World Champion trophies. Will found himself seated on the floor, Enriquez's legs wrapped around his waist from behind and quickly losing consciousness in a tight chokehold.

 

Just as Will was about to slip out of consciousness completely, Enriquez released his grip in preparation for the knife-wielding Hannibal that was advancing on him. A fast leg sweep had Hannibal on the ground next to Will. José Enriquez jumped to his feet, dashing past the 2nd Place All-Nationals Parkour plaque on the wall and out the open window onto the fire escape.

 

A somewhat woozy Will Graham was being pulled to his feet, his face being slapped in an attempt to wake him up.

 

"Come on, Will!" Hannibal said urgently. "He's seen our faces, we can't let him get away."

 

The sudden rush of adrenaline at the truth in those words quickly snapped Will out of his stupor. He retrieved his knife from where it was stuck in the wall and followed Hannibal out the window onto the fire escape.

 

Instead of following Enriquez up to the roof, they made their way to the alley below. They kept an eye on their prey as he raced across rooftops, leaping effortlessly across the impossibly large gaps between the buildings. Eventually, he reached the end of a line of buildings and couldn't go any further. Glancing behind him and assuming that he'd lost his pursuers, he swung himself down onto a drain pipe and climbed down the side of the building to the alley below.

 

Hannibal and Will were waiting for him, however, coming around the corners to flank him on either side. Enriquez dashed towards Hannibal then spun in a perfect football fake out, rushing past Will and further down the dark alleyway.

 

_Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!_

 

Even running on pure adrenaline, Will could hardly keep up with the man as he twisted and turned his way through the veritable maze of alleyways. Several times, the only way Will had known which turn his prey had taken was the telltale sound of the Olympic Marathon Gold Medal clinking against the keys in Enriquez's pocket in the distance.

 

Luckily for our two anti-heroes, this bizarre maze of alleyways that probably exists somewhere in Charleston was easy to get lost in. Enriquez had inadvertently doubled back on his path somewhere and turned a corner only to run into Hannibal, who was leaning a hand against the wall and wheezing like an out of shape old man.

 

The impact sent them both sprawling to the ground, José Enriquez gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of his lungs. Reacting quickly, Hannibal crawled over to pin him down as Will skidded around the corner.

 

_Squeeeeeeeak!_

 

"You got him!" Will exclaimed.

 

"Of course I did," Hannibal strained out while having a series of small heart attacks.

 

Will dropped to his knees, his eyes met Hannibal's over the man pinned between them. He wrapped his hands around Enriquez's throat and squeezed, cutting off any remaining attempts by the man to regain his breath.

 

Hannibal was struck by the beauty of Will forcing the life out of the man beneath him. He had to remind himself that it wouldn't be prudent for them to have a messy make-out session on top of a dead body in a dirty alley and made a mental note to get right on that as soon as they were home and cleaned up.

 

===

 

Once back at the safety of their house, Will declared that he would be the one cleaning out the trunk while Hannibal transported the body down to the basement. There was no blood, but hair and fibers and any other possible evidence needed to be cleaned out.

 

"Suit yourself," Hannibal had said, hoisting Enriquez over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

 

Will dragged the black plastic liner out to the side of the house. He turned on the water control and unzipped his murder suit, peeling it off and tossing it down to be cleaned off as well. Picking up the hose nozzle, he aimed it at the liner and pulled the trigger.

 

Unfortunately for Will, the curvy contours of the trunk liner and the excessively high water pressure shooting from the hose meant that an enormous spray of water ricocheted back off of the liner, shooting up and landing back on Will like a tidal wave.

 

Will let go of the nozzle trigger and stood, soaking wet in the middle of the yard. He briefly had a flashback to their somewhat recent fall into the Atlantic and for the briefest of moments, wondered if he actually had died and gone to Hell.

 

With considerably less pressure, he finished rinsing off the plastic and dropped the hose unceremoniously next to it in the grass.

 

"Dear Lord, what happened to you?" Hannibal said when Will sloshed down the stairs to the basement and plopped with a wet squish into a nearby chair.

 

"Fuck my life."

 

Hannibal chuckled. "I'm sure you don't actually mean that," he said, turning back to the body in front of him. In the few short minutes that Will had been outside getting an unwelcome shower, Hannibal had already removed all the choice organs from Enriquez's body and was getting ready to start dismantling the bigger parts.

 

"Wow, you did that fast," Will was impressed.

 

"I do have quite a bit of experience," Hannibal looked proud. He pulled out a large butcher knife and got to work removing the limbs. "I thought Mr.Enriquez here would provide prime cuts for our next few Taco Tuesdays," he said.

 

Will was taken aback. "Is that because he's Hispanic?" he asked. "Hannibal, that's racist!"

 

"No, not because he's Hispanic!" Hannibal said indignantly, his expression belying that it actually was at least partially true. "His lean muscles will make for excellent fajitas," he offered, this author not bothering to look up what lean meat is actually good for.

 

Will finally thought to ask a question that he'd wondered for quite some time. "Has no one ever," he cleared his throat, "suspected your cooking? Realized it wasn't what you claimed it to be?"

 

"What do you mean?" Hannibal asked.

 

"One time when I was growing up, a friend's dad told me that he made us cheeseburgers, but I could tell it wasn't beef. It was venison," he explained, "and I'd never had it before, but I knew my cheeseburger didn't taste like it should have."

 

"It's all in how you prepare it," Hannibal said. "I can get people to eat just about anything through proper preparation and presentation." He glanced up at Will with a smirk. "Do you really think those 'Fruity Pebbles' you eat every morning are from the store?"

 

Hannibal flipped on a band saw, the sound too comically loud for Will to ask or the reader to wonder how the heck Hannibal was making Fruity Pebbles out of people.

 

===

 

Before you knew it, this author did some hand-wavy stuff and Tuesday had fast come upon us. Hannibal's excitement for their upcoming Taco Tuesday and Role-Playing evening was surpassed only by Will's complete and absolute feeling of dread.

 

In the afternoon before their guests were to arrive, Will sat at the kitchen counter, pouting into his juice box. Hannibal had his back to him, humming happily as he worked on his own line of artisanal jams and jellies.

 

"What are you doing?" Will asked, curiosity finally getting the best of him.

 

"Why I'm preparing my own line of artisanal jams and jellies," Hannibal replied. "I thought it would be a nice gift to send home with our guests this evening." He turned and placed a jar on the counter.

 

Will picked up the red preserve-filled jar and turned it over in his hand. The lid was covered in an artful square of butcher paper and secured with a blue and white plaid ribbon. The label read "Hank & Wilson's Artisanal Preserves."

 

"What does that mean, anyways?" Will asked. "Artisanal preserves."

 

Hannibal gave him one measured look before returning to what he was doing. "If you have to ask, you wouldn't understand."

 

"Hmph." Will set the jar back on the counter and picked up his juice box. "I didn't think Phil and Steve really sounded like the _jelly_ type," he said.

 

Hannibal turned to face him again, his expression suddenly very worried. "You don't think so?" he asked quickly. Wringing his hands, he looked on the verge of tears. "I thought it would be a nice gesture. I'm rather out of practice in hosting dinner parties..."

 

Will reached over and patted Hannibal's hand reassuringly. "I'm sure it'll be fine," he smiled.

 

===

 

Further exploiting her powers over space and time, this author snapped her fingers and it was six o'clock.

 

Will answered the door when the bell rang, already well on his way to drunk, and ushered the three book-laden men into the dining room.

 

"You must be Wilson," the tallest man said. "Hank talks about you all the time."

 

"Fantastic," Will said between swigs of his beer.

 

"I admit that I'm glad to see you don't dress as fancy as Hank does. I started to wonder on the way here if I should have dug out one of my tuxes."

 

"No," Will replied. "That's just a Hannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn-k thing." He wasn't used to calling Hannibal by his pseudonym out loud.

 

"Well, I'm Phil," the tall, skinny man introduced himself. He indicated the short, heavyset man next to him, "This is Steve, and that's Jones." The third man was of normal height and build. He had a hoodie pulled low over his eyes and only grunted in response. "Jones doesn't talk much," Phil explained.

 

As they settled into dinner, Hannibal brought out the main course. "Mexican-style tacos with fresh lettuce and tomatoes, a combination of four delicate cheeses, and a salsa verde. Served with a sweet corn cake on the side." He winked at Will. "My dear life partner's favorite."

 

"Actually, all tacos are Mexican-style," Steve said as he received his plate. "They don't really eat them in Spain and other Spanish speaking countries."

 

"Nobody likes a know-it-all, Steve," Hannibal said as he took his seat, causing Will to almost spit his mouthful of beer across the table at the irony of that statement coming from Hannibal Lecter of all people.

 

"Now, gentlemen," Hannibal continued, "I'm very interested to learn all about this _Dungeons and Dragons_ role-playing game. How does it work?"

 

"Well..." Phil pulled his stack of books close to his plate and launched into an explanation of the game and mechanics that lasted the remainder of dinner and dessert. Hannibal took it all in, nodding in genuine interest and making notes in a leather-bound notebook once he'd finished his meal and cleared the table. Will understood next to none of it but was too buzzed to care.

 

"The first thing we'll need to do is help the two of you make characters," Phil explained.

 

"Jones and I already made ours the other day, so we'll be able to help you with yours," Steve offered.

 

An hour later, we decided to completely suspend all reality and choose to believe that it is remotely possible by any stretch of the imagination for two beginner DND players to completely make characters in anywhere close to an hour. Lo and behold, Hannibal and Will sat with completed character sheets in front of them! Holy cow!

 

"Ok, so Wilson," Phil said. "You're a female elf Druid with a canine companion, right? What is your name going to be?"

 

"Corona," Will answered, chugging his beer like a frat boy.

 

"And Hank, you're a human male Sorcerer who inexplicably put most of his points in charisma and the cooking profession?"

 

Hannibal nodded. "That is correct."

 

"And what is your name going to be?" Phil raised his pencil to make a note on his notepad.

 

"Rannibal Recter."

 

Will literally fell out of his chair.

 

"Rannibal Recter?" Steve asked. "That's a very original name."

 

"Sounds like a porn star," Will said, pulling himself back into his chair.

 

Hannibal put his hand on Will's thigh under the table and looked at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

 

"Since we managed to finish your characters unrealistically fast and still have some time tonight," Phil said, "why don't we go ahead and start the story and at least get the four of you together."

 

Phil proceeded to set the scene for their campaign, a very generic medieval fantasy setting, with flowery prose and overly descriptive descriptions. Hannibal listened with rapt attention, a smile on his face as though he were listening to recitations of Shakespeare or Dante.

 

"You are sitting at home alone on evening," Phil directed his narration to Hannibal, "when you hear three hollow knocks on the front door."

 

"I rise with a feline grace and cross the foyer," Hannibal said. "I slide the bolt from the lock and open the large, heavy wooden door, my muscles rippling beneath my robes."

 

"Standing on your doorstep is a well-dressed man. His clothes indicate that he's obviously affiliated with one of the royal houses, leaving you to wonder why a man like that would be at your door. He clutches a rolled parchment under his arm. 'You Rannibal Recter?' he asks."

 

"Yes," Hannibal said, "I am."

 

"'I have a letter for you,' the man says, holding the rolled parchment out to you. He pulls it back out of your reach as you move to take it. 'Unless you need me to read it for you?' he says snidely, a smile curling his lip."

 

Hannibal pursed his lips. "I pull out my dagger and stab him in the throat."

 

Phil choked on his next words. "You-you what?"

 

"I pull out my dagger and stab him in the throat," Hannibal repeated, face completely serious. "I can't abide his rudeness."

 

"Are you...sure that's what you want to do?" Phil asked.

 

"I'm chaotic neutral," Hannibal stated matter-of-factly. "I can do what I want."

 

"Hank..." Will said warningly, pausing his work on the pyramid of beer bottles in front of him.

 

"No, he's right," Steve nodded. "That's how the game works, he really can do just about anything he wants."

 

"Well," Phil said, opening a book in front of him, "the Messenger would get a Sense Motive check to see if he anticipates your action. With Rannibal's Charisma and skill choices though, I doubt he stands a chance." Phil rolled a die on the table in front of him. "Yeah, he failed."

 

Hannibal smiled.

 

"You have initiative and the first round of combat would function like a sneak attack, catching the Messenger flat-footed..." Phil shuffled some papers in front of him, looking for the numbers he needed. "Roll your attack and damage, I guess?"

 

Hannibal picked up a few dice and held them in his fist, running a finger along his character sheet. "Remind me of my bonus for my skill in Knowledge: Anatomy if I'm aiming for the jugular?"

 

"Oh yeah, um..." Phil shuffles some more papers. "Well, you're guaranteed to get it at this point, so I guess it doesn't matter as long as you hit."

 

Hannibal rolled his d20, it settled easily on the table with the number 20 pointing straight up.

 

"Holy shit!" Steve exclaimed. "First roll of your first campaign and it's a natural 20. That's impressive."

 

Hannibal beamed.

 

Phil sighed. "The Messenger's head all but completely severs from his body, collapsing in a bloody pile on your doorstep."

 

"Now what rolls do I have to make to cut him up and freeze him?"

 

Phil blanched. "How about we call it here for the night?" he asked. "I'm going to have to do some re-planning for the beginning of the story now anyways, so it'll give me time to figure out how to go from here."

 

The three guests gathered up their books and Hannibal walked with them to the door, handing each one a jar of his homemade preserves. "Good night"s and "See you at work tomorrow"s were exchanged before their car pulled out of the driveway and the lights faded into the distance down the road.

 

Hannibal closed the door with a satisfied smile, happy that the evening had gone so well.

 

"Well that was subtle," Will slurred, leaning against the wall next to the door and then promptly passing the fuck out.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I lost you in the DND talk. I promise it won't become a regular part of the story, I just really wanted to write that one part. XD


	9. Chapter IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A promotion for Hannibal, Will needs a new pastime, and a celebratory hunt! All of this leads to...the decision to visit some old friends. That's right! After this chapter, the murder husbands will be making a grand return home to...tie up a few loose ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay of this chapter! Another fic that I've had bouncing around my head finally forced its way out and I've been trying to finish it so I can post it and get it out of the way. Comments and kudos are, as always, super appreciated!

 

 

 

CHAPTER IX

 

"Security to the Frozen Foods department. Security to the Frozen Foods department."

 

Hannibal sighed and forced a pleasant smile at the elderly woman making eyes at him from the nearest checkout lane. "That's the third time this week, Will," he muttered to himself.

 

Two security guards armed only with batons jogged pass him from the front office towards the grocery area of the store. They never caught Will any of these times they were called out, the intercom message enough to tip him off to run. This time was apparently no different, the two guards passed back by Hannibal a few minutes later, looking rather annoyed.

 

Hannibal would have to find Will a new hobby, he decided. Most days, he would arrive at work and begin his shift. A couple hours later, Will would show up and proceed to either buy half the store with Hannibal's discount or run amok through the aisles. Hannibal wasn't sure which he preferred.

 

"You look lost in thought," the voice signaled the approach of Dave, Hannibal's most direct supervisor. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked.

 

Hannibal turned to face him. "No, our sex life is absolutely splendid."

 

Dave grimaced. "Ok. Not what I asked, but ok." He shook his head in an attempt to remove that statement from his memory. "Look, I'm going to get straight to the point," he said. "This is my last week here and we need a new manager to take my place. We were wondering if you'd like the job."

 

Hannibal's hand flew to his mouth, eyes widening in astonishment. "Me?!" he asked, sounding both surprised and honored. "This is both a surprise and an honor! I've only been here for two months!"

 

Dave shrugged. "Yeah well, fast turnaround in these places."

 

Hannibal opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the mechanical voice of the intercom saying "Security to the Furniture department. Security to the Furniture department."

 

Hannibal sighed again, but quickly regained his composure. "But what about Bennie?" he asked, glancing over Dave's head towards the other entrance on the far side of the store. "She's been here for 27 years. Surely some consideration should be given to experience over youth?"

 

"Eh, forget Bennie," Dave dismissed the idea. "Never liked her much anyways. So what do you say?"

 

Hannibal tapped his finger against his lips. "Manager, huh?" he asked. "In charge of the whole sounder of Door Greeters?"

 

Dave frowned at the strange word choice. "Yes, all eight of you," he answered. "Though your first task would be to hire a new greeter to take your spot. Can't have the manager greeting customers or anything."

 

The relative quiet of the midday store in its slow hours was pierced by a fierce yell.

 

"You'll never take me alive, coppers!" Will screeched as he went sailing by at top speed on a rolling desk chair, the two security guards close behind. "You'll never take me alive!"

 

Hannibal pretended the interruption hadn't happened and stuck his hand out to Dave. "I accept," he said, shaking the other man's hand enthusiastically.

 

After Dave had returned to his office, Hannibal finished out the rest of his shift with an extra bounce in his step. Imagine! Hannibal Lecter, a manager! He'd never been made a manager before! True, he'd been an Emergency Room doctor and made more money in three minutes as a psychiatrist than he ever would in a full shift as a Walmart manager...but still! He was filled with a distinct feeling of pride and accomplishment.

 

At the end of his shift, he retrieved his lunchbox from his locker in the break room and returned to the main entrance to wait for Will. He only had to wait a couple minutes before he saw Will being literally dragged towards him by the security team, wearing what looked like a full set of children's gladiator armor.

 

"You can't do this!" Will was protesting. "I have the right to test the products before I buy them!"

 

"Does this belong to you?" one of the security guards asked Hannibal as they stopped in front of him.

 

"Thank you, gentlemen," Hannibal said. "I'll take him from here."

 

Will moved to leave the store but was stopped by a guard's hand on his arm. "Sir, you'll need to leave the toys here," he said.

 

Will glowered at them as he reluctantly unfastened the plastic armor and let it drop to the floor.

 

"And the guns," one guard said.

 

" _All_ of them," the other added.

 

Will proceeded to pull more brightly colored toys guns out of his pockets, waistband, and who-knows-where-else than anyone would've guessed he'd had places to hide them, dropping them all into a pile on the floor in front of him.

 

"This is _my_ design," he insisted, spinning on a heel and stomping out of the store.

 

"You need to put a leash on him or something, Hank," one of the guards suggested.

 

"I tried," Hannibal said, "but he didn't seem very into it." He nodded his thanks to the both of them and left to follow Will out to the car.

 

Once Hannibal had pulled the Bentley onto the main road towards home, he broke the silence. "What were you doing this time?" he asked.

 

"Matrix shootout with a My Size Barbie," Will replied, continuing to pout at the window.

 

Hannibal reached over and opened the glove compartment that he'd converted into a mini fridge, pulling out a juice box. He expertly removed the plastic wrapping from the straw and inserted it into the drink with one hand, offering it to Will. "I've been made a manager," he said. "You should be proud of me."

 

Will had long since given up on trying to understand how the once prominent doctor could take so much pride in his menial job at Walmart, but he played the supportive boyfriend regardless. "Congratulations!" he said, trying to sound like he actually meant it. An exciting thought crossed his mind. "Hey wait, does this mean you'll get a bigger discount???" His eyes widened, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

 

"Doubtful," Hannibal answered. "I believe the employee discount is the same for everyone."

 

Will returned to his pouting. "Shame."

 

They rode in silence for several minutes, the only sound was Will's obnoxious slurping on his juice box. Hannibal cleared his throat. "I noticed this morning that there's a rather hideous scratch along the passenger side of the car," he said, making a face. "Have you noticed?"

 

The startled snort that Will let out at Hannibal's words had unfortunately happened at the same time he'd been taking a drink, the juice from the juice box finding its way up into his sinuses. "Gah!" He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at him.

 

"Uh, no," Will said, trying to shake the burning sensation out of his face. "I hadn't noticed."

 

"It's a very unsightly scratch." Hannibal looked like he'd tasted something foul. "Probably those kids and their darn _rollerblades_. If I ever find out who did it, I'll kill them all. Murder husbands deal or no."

 

Will gulped.

 

===

 

Once home, Hannibal helped Will carry in his purchases for the day. They'd converted the _Will Insists on Maintaining His Heterosexuality and Wants His Own Room_ bedroom into the _Will's Unnecessary Walmart Purchases_ storage room. One wall was lined with particle board shelves covered in toys and books, piles of household items and random objects were stacked neatly along the floor. A full size kayak stood propped in one corner.

 

Hannibal changed out of his blue work suit into one of his three-piece purple plaid suits that he wore when he felt like being comfortable around the house. He settled on the couch with Will for their mid-afternoon, totally not verging on becoming alcoholics, bottle of wine.

 

Will leaned back against the crook of Hannibal's arm, feet crossed on the arm of the couch. "This is a good life," he observed.

 

"Mmm," Hannibal found he had to agree. "I find I have to agree." He placed a kiss on the top of Will's mop of curly hair. "I am in high spirits today because of my promotion," he said. "How would you feel about a hunt this evening?"

 

Will tilted his head up towards him. "Don't we still have plenty of José left?"

 

"Yes, but he's really only good for Taco Tuesdays and the occasional enchilada night," Hannibal said. "He wouldn't be suitable for the Italian cuisine that I feel like preparing in celebration."

 

Will sighed. "Just because he was of Hispanic descent," he said for what felt like the fiftieth time, " _doesn't_ mean that his meat is infused with jalapenos and Mexican spices. Hannibal, you're being racist again."

 

The other man shrugged and took a sip of his wine. "You are what you eat, Will. Agree to disagree."

 

Will rolled his eyes, not in the mood to argue about how much Mexican food José Enriquez probably actually ate in his athletic lifestyle in Charleston, South Carolina. Instead, he asked, "Have someone in mind?"

 

===

 

The prey Hannibal had chosen for the evening was a young woman who lived alone far outside of the city limits. A lot less room for error on this hunt. Her crimes were dubious at best, but let's be frank, Will's morals aren't really one of the focal points of this fic.

 

It was dark when Hannibal pulled the car onto a dirt path into the woods, switching off the headlights. He pulled the car far enough into the trees for it not to be seen from the main room and turned off the engine. "We'll need to walk from here," he explained.

 

"How do you find these people and track down where they live and all this?" Will asked as he climbed out of the car. "The only time I'm ever not with you is when you're working."

 

Hannibal pressed his finger to Will's lips. "Shhh," he said quietly. "Just go with it."

 

He led them through the trees, running parallel to the dirt path that he'd parked the Bentley on. Eventually, Will spotted a light in the distance, growing gradually brighter until they reached the edge of the tree line and a clearing.

 

A small log cabin sat nestled in the clearing. The light was coming from a window at one end of the front of the house. Inside, they could see the woman bustling about in what looked like a kitchen. Hannibal had said her name was Chelsea Underhill, she was a legal secretary, and she chose to live out here in seclusion for even more dubious reasons.

 

Hannibal crept forward, moving quietly in his plastic murder suit, staying close to the tree line and out of the light coming from the house. Will followed closely behind, blending in more easily in his black pants and gloves and slightly darker black turtleneck. He'd decided to forego the murder suit for this hunt, much to Hannibal's chagrin.

 

They circled around to the back of the house. Hannibal tried the back door, it was unlocked. He turned the knob slowly and pushed the door open silently. They stepped inside and could hear humming coming from the direction of the lit kitchen. Hannibal wrinkled his nose, the house had an overall unpleasant odor.

 

Chelsea Underhill had her back to them as they stood in full sight in the kitchen doorway. She had headphones on, singing to herself as she dried dishes next to the sink.

 

Will and Hannibal looked at one another, an unspoken signal shared between them. In one motion, Will stepped forward and wrapped an arm around the woman's neck, holding it in place with his other arm and applying pressure. Nothing more than startled, strangled noises escaped her lips, her air supply cut off.

 

Hannibal watched from the entrance to the room, his hand unconsciously reaching out to grip the doorframe when Will turned so that they could maintain eye contact. Hannibal thought he could practically feel the heat from the smoldering gaze that Will held on him as he felt the life leaving the woman in his arms.

 

(Man, sometimes I write things that makes ME roll my eyes.)

 

Just as Chelsea Underhill's struggling lessened and she was about to go completely slack in Will's arms, there was the sudden sound growing louder, like hundreds of fingernails tapping on a tabletop.

 

Hannibal turned quickly to face the approaching sound and could only shriek in the most unmanly way as a veritable swarm of small furry creatures launched themselves off of the ground and onto his person.

 

"FERRETS!!!" he yelled, flailing wildly as the elongated rodents clawed their way up his plastic murder suit.

 

Startled by the other man's plight, Will let go of Chelsea and let her drop to the floor. The cord from her headphones got caught around Will's wrist, yanking them free of her iPod as he rushed forward.

 

_"AND SO YOU FELT LIKE DROPPING IN AND JUST EXPECT ME TO BE FREE"_

Music filled the house, drowning Hannibal's cries. Will tried to pull one of the ferrets off of the other man's shoulder and yelped as it turned its claws and teeth on him.

 

_"BUT NOW I'M SAVIN ALL MY LOVIN FOR SOMEONE WHO'S LOVIN ME"_

Three of the ferrets circled between and around Will's legs like a T-47 Airspeeder around an AT-AT. With much the same effect, Will tripped and fell flat on his face on the floor.

 

_"GO ON NOW, WALK OUT THE DOOR"_

"Oh God, one just went up my pants leg!!!" Will shrieked.

 

_"JUST TURN AROUND NOW, CAUSE YOU'RE NOT WELCOME ANYMORE"_

"They're in my murder suit!!!"

_"WEREN'T YOU THE ONE WHO TRIED TO BREAK ME WITH GOODBYE?"_

"My eyes! My eyes!!!"

_"DID YOU THINK I'D CRUMBLE? DID YOU THINK I'D LAY DOWN AND DIE?"_

"This one just peed on me!!!"

_"OH NO NOT I, I WILL SURVIVE"_

Chelsea Underhill was on her feet, frying pan clutched in her hands. "Don't you hurt my babies!" she screamed.

 

_"OH AS LONG AS I KNOW HOW TO LOVE, I KNOW I'LL STAY ALIVE"_

She swung the frying pan with all her strength, narrowly missing colliding with the side of Hannibal's head.

_"I'VE GOT ALL MY LIFE TO LIVE, I'VE GOT ALL MY LOVE TO GIVE"_

Will crawled across the floor, a pack of ferrets scurrying across his back like some sort of bizarre living fur coat. He grabbed Chelsea's ankle, pulling her legs out from under her and bringing her to the tiles.

_"AND I'LL SURVIVE, I WILL SURVIVE"_

He turned to look for Hannibal, but the other man had run shrieking into the front yard, trailing at least two dozen furry pursuers.

_"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"_

 

===

 

Two hours later, Hannibal and Will were back in the car and on their way home, Chelsea Underhill's body in the trunk. They'd set fire to the cabin in the woods to hide the mountain of evidence they'd left behind, sending several dozen ferrets skittering out into the trees.

 

Will's face was covered in tiny red scratches, one of his shoes and half of one of his pants legs was missing. Hannibal's murder suit was filled with holes, zipper split open in the middle. There was an unspoken pact between the two men to never speak of what had happened that evening.

 

After awhile, Hannibal cleared his throat. "I find I am no longer in the mood to prepare dinner this evening."

 

Will grunted in agreement.

 

"McDonald's?"

 

"Sure."

 

===

 

"I've been giving a lot of thought to our...hunting problems," Hannibal said the next morning at breakfast.

 

"Oh?" Will was in his normal position, hunched over his giant bowl of "Fruity Peoples" as Hannibal had started calling them.

 

"Yes." Hannibal put down the towel he'd been folding and leaned his hands on the counter between them. "I believe that the reason we are unable to comfortably settle into our new lives here is because we have unfinished business with our old lives."

 

Will chewed on the handle of his spoon. "You think so?"

 

Hannibal nodded.

 

Will put his spoon in his empty bowl and pushed it aside. "So you want to go back for a visit?"

 

Hannibal nodded again.

 

Will looked thoughtful. "I knew you would want to go back eventually," he said. "I suppose now is as good a time as any."

 

Hannibal rounded the counter and stood leaning against it next to Will. "It will take a couple weeks to prepare everything," he said, "but I think it's what we need to do."

 

It was Will's turn to nod. "Ok."

 

Hannibal put a hand on his shoulder. "Time to pay a visit to some old friends."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was probably the epitome of one of those "no one in the world is going to find this as funny as I do" moments...but I wrote it anyways.
> 
> I used to have ferrets. Love them, miss them, would never have them again.


	10. Chapter X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is starting to have doubts that Will and Hannibal are probably dead, so he decides to enlist the help of a few friends. Meanwhile, the murder husbands return to the old stomping ground and have a trip down memory lane, only to be interrupted by.......duh-duh-DUHHH! It's too bad, cause Hannibal had some very special plans for Will and that dining room table...

 

 

 

CHAPTER X

 

"I'm starting to have doubts that Will and Hannibal are probably dead," Jack said, watching the whiskey swirl in the glass in his hand.

 

"Jack, it's 3am," Alana's tired voice said on the other end of the line. "Why are you calling to tell me this now?"

 

Jack took a drink and swallowed. "Well, because with Hannibal and Will gone, who else am I supposed to talk to?"

 

He heard Alana sigh. "Ok," she said. "So why are you having doubts? It's been two months."

 

"Freddie Lounds is giving me doubts," Jack said.

 

"Freddie Lounds is full of shit."

 

"Is she though?" Jack asked. "I mean, about this kind of thing. About the aliens and bat boy and head transplants, yeah she's full of shit...but is she wrong about Will and Hannibal? If you think about it, she's actually been right about both of them from the start."

 

"But why now, Jack?" Alana stifled a yawn.

 

"I guess I need closure," Jack admitted. "I can't stand not knowing whether Will really double-crossed us," he paused before adding, "or if he was just collateral damage."

 

A long pause. "What do you want to do?"

 

Excited that Alana would apparently at least entertain his idea, Jack asked, "Did you keep all of Frederick Chilton's recording equipment at the hospital? Do you have tapes of Dr.Lecter's cell?"

 

"Yes," Alana reluctantly admitted. "We didn't keep all of the cameras, but we kept the ones in the space that we converted for Hannibal's cell. "Peace of mind."

 

"Can I come by tomorrow and see some of those tapes? Specifically the last couple visits he had from Will, to see if they said or did anything that might give us clues towards their intentions."

 

"If that's what'll help you sleep at night," Alana yawned again.

 

===

 

The next afternoon, Alana sat in the large chair behind her desk at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Jack pulled up a chair next to her as she adjusted the monitor so that they could both see it. She was about to start the video when her office door was flung open.

 

In walked Jimmy Price, carrying a big bucket of popcorn and trailing Brian Zeller behind him, as per usual. "You didn't start without us, did you?" Zeller asked.

 

"We heard you were going to watch a movie," Jimmy said, pulling a chair up next to Jack to get a good view of the screen. "I would love to see what kinds of things Will and Hannibal had to talk about when they thought no one was listening."

 

"You're kidding me, right?" Jack moved to make room for them anyways.

 

Once they were all settled in places where they could see the monitor, Alana hit play and a wide angle shot of Hannibal's cell filled the screen. Hannibal was leaning against one wall as Will approached from the door.

 

_"Ding-dong, the dragon's dead," Will says._

They proceed to have a pretty straightforward conversation about the perceived suicide of the Great Red Dragon, Hannibal lamenting that Will wasn't the one who got to kill him. The four people in Alana's office could practically feel the tension in the video fill the office when the conversation turned to Will's imminent return to his family.

 

_"When life becomes maddeningly polite, think about me. Think about me, Will. Don't worry about me."_

_Will approaches the glass slowly, raising a hand to rest against it._

"Oh dude, are they gonna kiss through the glass?" Zeller asked in a whisper.

 

"Shh!" Alana shushed him, curious herself what was going to happen.

 

_Will lets out a long sigh. "You turned yourself in so I would always know where you were," he pauses, looking perhaps a bit regretful for a moment. "But you'd only do that if I rejected you."_

Jimmy let out a loud gasp. "What a little _bitch_!"

 

"Be quiet!" Alana hissed, reaching over Jimmy's shoulder and grabbing a handful of popcorn.

 

_There's a pause before Will pulls his hand away from the glass and offers a simple, "Goodbye." As he turns and heads towards the door, Hannibal takes a step forward._

_"Will," he says._

_Reluctantly, Will stops in the doorway and turns to face him with another sigh._

_"Was it good to see me?" Hannibal asks._

_"Good?" Will repeats. "No."_

"OOHHH!!!" everyone in Alana's office chorused at the same time.

 

"Ouch!" Zeller flinched.

 

"There's not enough salve in the world for _that_ burn!" Jack nodded.

 

"Would you guys be quiet?" Jimmy huffed. "I want to see what happens next!" He took a fistful of popcorn and stuffed it all in his mouth at once.

 

_Hannibal stands for several long seconds, watching the spot where Will had last stood. Finally, he turns and walks to his cot and sits down, straight-backed. He seems almost in shock for a moment before he opens his mouth._

_"Guess miiine is not the fiiirst heaaart broooken," he sings quietly, looking down at his hands. "My eyes are not the first to cry." A single tear is seen to drop from the end of his nose to the floor._

"What the-" Jack starts.

 

_"I'm not the first to know, there's just no getting ooover you."_

_Hannibal stands and returns to the glass, looking at the door._

_"Hello, I'm just a fool who's willing," he continues, singing a little louder, "to sit around and wait for you." Gesturing to the empty cell around him, devoid of his books and drawings, he adds with a wry smile, "But baby can't you see? There's nothing else for me to do." He places his hand on the glass, a mirror of where Will's had been only minutes earlier. "I'm hopelessly devoted to you."_

_Pushing himself away from the glass, Hannibal flings his arms out wide, belting out the next part of the song. "But! Now! There's nowhere to hide! Since you pushed my love aside!" His hands go to his head. "I'm out of my head! Hopelessly devoted to you!" he vocalizes. "Hopelessly devoted to you!" A little quieter, "Hopelessly devoted to you."_

_Moving to the closed off fireplace on the back wall of his cell, he leans forward with his hands on the mantle, head hanging. Quietly, "My head is saying 'Fool, forget him!'" He turns to look at the door longingly. "My heart is saying 'Don't let go!'" Reaching a hand towards the door and following it towards the glass, he sings, "Hold on til the end," he makes a fist, "that's what I intend to do. Hopelessly devoted to you."_

_Hannibal spins perfectly in place, stopping facing the door, stance wide and fists clenched in front of his chest. "But! Now! There's nowhere to hide! Since you pushed my love aside!" his voice reaches new heights of volume. Throwing his arms around himself, he continues, "I'm out of my head, hopelessly devoted to you! Hopelessly devoted to you."_

_He steps forward, close to the glass, pressing both hands to it and finishes his song. "Hopelessly devoted to you..." his voice rising on the last word to an octave none would have guessed he could reach._

Alana's office was filled with a stunned silence. Jimmy sat sobbing into his tub of popcorn, Zeller patting him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

 

Alana switched off the video feed and cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Well," she said, "I guess there was nothing there."

 

===

 

Will was leaning against the passenger side window, sick of being in the car and anxious to reach their destination. The drive from Charleston to Baltimore took about nine hours.

 

"Or at least it _would_ _have_ if it weren't for all this GD CONSTRUCTION!" He banged his head against the window several times. They were about a hundred miles out of Baltimore and had gone exactly thirty miles in the last three hours.

 

Hannibal patted Will's knee reassuringly. "Be calm, Will," he said. "We'll be there soon enough."

 

Just as Hannibal predicted, "soon enough," they were parking the Bentley on the road in front of Hannibal's old office in downtown Baltimore.

 

"Uh..." Will started. "Why are we here?"

 

"There are a few books and things I wanted to pick up while we were in town."

 

Will frowned. "You know this is a crime scene, right? The FBI seized your office when you ran off to Europe. They're probably staking it out."

 

"Nah," was all Hannibal said in reply, getting out of the car.

 

Will climbed out of the passenger seat and rushed to catch up, glancing around nervously. "Saying 'nah' doesn't make it not true."

 

"It's cool." Not a care in the world, Hannibal picked up a strangely shaped rock. Offering it to Will, he asked, "Would you care to do the honors?"

 

Will took the rock and hefted it in one hand before pulling his arm back and flinging the rock through one of the front windows of the building.

 

Hannibal literally facepalmed. "It was a fake rock. There was a key inside," he explained.

 

A moment of comprehension and regret flashed across Will's face before he just smiled. "Nah," he said and climbed in through the broken window.

 

The inside of the building was eerily calm and quiet, curtains pulled, furniture covered in white sheets. The desk sat uncovered, fingerprint powder still dusted across the surface from where the FBI had come in after Dolarhyde's call.

 

Hannibal looked at the filthy desk with disdain. "You'd think the FBI could have at least cleaned up after themselves," he said. "I was hoping to bang you on this while we were here."

 

Will tripped over his own feet and stumbled into a column. "Pardon?"

 

"It only seemed fitting, considering how much time we spent here together." He ran his finger along the wooden surface sadly. "Guess we'll just have to skip straight to doing it on the dining room table in my house."

 

"Wait, now we're going to your _house_ too?" Will asked in disbelief. "Do you _want_ us to get caught?"

 

"Come now, Will," Hannibal put a fist on his hip sassily, "do you really think the FBI is watching both my office _and_ my house?"

 

"It doesn't really matter!" Will flailed. "If they're staking out either one and we go to both, they'll see us one way or another!"

 

"Nah," was all Hannibal offered in reply.

 

"You keep saying that like it makes everything ok," Will huffed.

 

"Wicked chickens lay deviled eggs, Will."

 

Will could only look at him, dumbfounded. "What does that even _mean_?"

 

Hannibal just winked, as if that explained anything.

 

Will sighed and gave up the argument. "What are we doing here anyways?"

 

Hannibal looked around the office for a moment and pursed his lips. "I don't know. Let's go." He turned quickly on his heel and walked out the door.

 

Will threw his hands up to the heavens and shook them, mouthing "Why me, God?! Why me?!" before following Hannibal back out to the car.

 

However long it takes to get from Hannibal's office to his house later (take THAT people who expect authors to do any modicum of research), Hannibal was bounding up the front steps and retrieving his hidden key rock before Will had even removed his seatbelt. Climbing out of the car, Will turned to look at the Bentley parked conspicuously on the street right in front of the house. He wondered - not for the first time, mind you - if Hannibal's HANIGRM1 vanity license plate had been a bad choice.

 

Once inside, Will found Hannibal with the top half of his body sprawled across the dining room table, looking like he was attempting to hug it. "Oh, how I've missed you!" he crooned, caressing the polished wood lightly.

 

Will cleared his throat from the doorway. "Do you need a moment alone?"

 

Hannibal straightened and smoothed his jacket. "Just saying hello to some old friends," he replied with his normal, controlled voice. Suddenly, he flounced out his hands and pranced into the kitchen. Will reluctantly followed.

 

"Hello, little wine bottles!" Hannibal called, flinging open the pantry door. "Daddy's home!" He shut the door and turned to run his hands along the counter, eyes looking a little misty.

 

"I used to come here," Will said, looking at the spot on the floor where he'd almost bled out all those years ago. "After I got out of the hospital, while you were in Europe."

 

"You did?" Hannibal looked genuinely surprised. "Why?"

 

"Looking for answers, I thought," Will shrugged. "Wanting to feel closer to you, I suppose."

 

Hannibal crossed the kitchen in two long strides and wrapped Will in his arms. "That is SO SWEET!" he exclaimed, pressing the other man's face uncomfortably to his chest.

 

The quasi-tender moment was interrupted by Hannibal suddenly pushing Will away to arm's length and gasping. "My murder basement!" he squealed, eyes lighting up in excitement. He turned and flung open the basement door, rushing down the steps.

 

"I'll, uh, stay up here," Will called after him.

 

To pass the time, Will looked through the cabinets and drawers, opening the fridge curiously. He wondered briefly who in the FBI had the job of removing all of the food items from seized properties...and, for that matter, what they did with it. Were Hannibal's salt and pepper shakers sitting in an evidence locker somewhere? These are important questions.

 

He let the fridge door swing shut with a whump and froze in place. He'd heard a step behind him. Someone was in the doorway and it couldn't possibly be Hannibal.

 

"Valjean, at last, we see each other plain..." a deep voice began.

 

Will turned to face Jack Crawford. "Valjean is the hero of the story," Will pointed out.

 

"Oh hell," Jack threw his hands up, disappointed that his dramatic moment had been ruined. "What are you doing here, Will?"

 

"Sightseeing," Will answered. "How did you know I was here?"

 

"I've been staking out Hannibal's old office and house," Jack explained. "You weren't exactly subtle."

 

Will pointed an angry, accusing finger at the basement door, as if Hannibal could sense Will's overwhelming desire to scream "I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO!"

 

Jack leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest a little too casually for someone who should be considerably more surprised to find that someone he had assumed was probably dead was, in fact, not dead. "So why are you really here, Will?" he asked. "Is Hannibal forcing you? Or are you here of your own volition?" He sounded like he already knew the answer.

 

"I'm with Hannibal."

 

"And the Dragon? Was it Hannibal that killed him? Or you?"

 

"We killed him together."

 

Jack nodded as if everything was exactly as he had suspected, even though it wasn't at all. He let out a long breath. "So I guess Hannibal finally brought you to his side."

 

"I was already on his side," Will said, "I just needed to open my eyes."

 

Jack switched to a more defensive stance as Will moved, but relaxed when the younger man crossed the kitchen to look out the window.

 

"All those days, watching from the windows," Will said quietly. "All those years, outside looking in." He looked down and sighed. "All that time, never even knowing just how blind I've been." He closed his eyes.

 

"I wanted to keep you blind," Jack said.

 

Will looked at his former mentor and a small smile came across his lips. "Now I'm here," he said, "blinking in the starlight. Now I'm here, suddenly I _see_. Standing here," he spread his arms out to indicate the space around him, "it's all so _clear_. I'm where I'm meant to be!"

 

"Will, this isn't-"

 

"And at last, I see the light!" Will interrupted. "And it's like the fog has lifted."

 

"Will, you don't-"

 

"And at last, I see the light! And it's like the sky is new."

 

"Will-"

 

"And it's warm and real and bright," Will closed his eyes and grinned. "And the world has somehow shifted."

 

"Will, I-" this time Jack stopped himself, seeing that Will's eyes were directed over his shoulder now, not directly at him. Jack felt his heart thud in his chest. Someone was behind him.

 

"All at once, everything looks different," Will's voice grew quiet again. "Now that I see _you_."

 

Hannibal reached a hand forward and bodily pushed Jack to the side, passing by him into the kitchen to stand before Will, looking down at him with such adoration.

 

"All those days," Hannibal began, "chasing down a daydream. All those years, living in a blur. All that time, never truly seeing things the way they were."

 

Hannibal turned to address Jack, taking a few steps towards him. Jack reflexively backed away, reaching to remove his pistol from the holster at his hip.

 

"Now he's here, shining in the starlight," Hannibal said, breathless, a hand gesturing back towards Will. "Now he's here, suddenly I know." He returned his gaze to Will's, placing a hand on the shorter man's cheek softly. "If he's here, it's crystal clear, I'm where I'm meant to go."

 

Will placed his hand over the top of Hannibal's on the side of his face.

 

"And at last, I see the light," Hannibal professed, "and it's like the fog has lifted. And at last, I see the light, and it's like the sky is new."

 

"And it's warm and real and bright," Will smiled up at the man in front of him.

 

"And the world has somehow shifted," Hannibal's voice was hushed.

 

"All at once," Will almost whispered, "everything looks different."

 

"Now that I see you," Hannibal and Will said at the same time. It was as if they could read one another's thoughts, feel one another's hearts. Their foreheads met with small sighs and happy smiles, hands gripping jackets and breaths mingling.

 

Jack looked at the pistol in his hand and contemplated turning it on himself. Instead, he backed slowly out of the room before turning and running full speed out the front door. It was obvious he would never be able to take the two lovebirds by himself, he needed back-up.

 

Several long minutes later, Hannibal and Will came down from their lovey-dovey high and noticed that Jack had disappeared.

 

Will frowned. "There's no way Jack would just let us go," he said. "We need to go before he has a chance to come back with reinforcements."

 

Hannibal didn't reply, simply grabbed his hand and led him towards the dining room table.

 

"Hannibal, we don't have time for this," Will protested. "Jack could be back any minute."

 

"Nah."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO songs in one chapter. Have I lost my GD mind?
> 
> Yes, I think, is the answer to that.


	11. Chapter XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack desperately looks for anyone to help him with apprehending Hannibal and Will while the Murder Husbands pay a visit to dear ol' Dr.du Maurier. Someone's not making it out of this chapter alive and I'll give you a hint, it's Bedelia.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XI

 

As it turns out, Jack Crawford wasn't exactly on the FBI's best graces these days and had a considerably harder time calling for back-up than he had expected. He'd been sitting in his car across the street from Hannibal's house for a good twenty minutes, calling every agency and official he could think of, trying to pull anything remotely resembling a string that he could.

 

"Jack, Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham are probably dead," he was being told for definitely not the first time since he'd started making calls. "It's just your imagination, seeing similar faces in the crowd and all that."

 

Jack grunted and hung up on the District Attorney without a word. Having exhausted every last contact he had, it was time for Jack to resort to his last ditch effort. He pulled up the dialer on his phone and pressed 9-1-1.

 

"911, what is your emergency?" a female voice answered.

 

"There's been a murder!" Jack tried to sound panicked and out of breath, raising his voice a couple octaves. "I heard gunshots! Oh God, it's horrible! The house is in flames! I think he has an ax! Please send help! There are children inside!"

 

There was a long silence from the other end of the line. Finally, "Is this Jack Crawford?"

 

Jack pounded his fist into his thigh. "Yes, dammit," he said, voice back to normal.

 

"Sir, 911 is for _real_ emergencies only."

 

"This _is_ a real emergency!" He was about to give the dispatcher an earful when the front door of Hannibal's house opened. Jack ducked down low in his seat, hoping that neither man coming out of the house noticed the giant black SUV with government plates sitting across the street. Jack hung up the phone and hit the door lock, even though the doors were already locked, just to make sure.

 

Hannibal pulled the front door of the house closed behind him and followed Will down the steps. Will set the bag he was carrying on the ground next to him, hand on the handle of the passenger door of the Bentley, waiting to be let in.

 

Instead, Hannibal spun the other man to face him, pressing Will's back against the car and caging him there with his body. They kissed wild and sloppy, Hannibal's hands frantically raking through Will's hair, Will's right leg raising and bending to wrap around Hannibal's waist. Jack's hand went to his mouth, holding in his lunch that threatened to come back up at the sight of what might very well be the messiest make-out session he had ever witnessed.

 

Hannibal finally separated from Will and unlocked the car, holding the passenger door open as Will climbed in. As he shut the door, Hannibal looked across the street, directly at Jack, and winked.

 

Jack could only stare, peeking out the window with his fingers digging into the door of the car and his chin perched on top of them, as Hannibal and Will disappeared down the street. Once they were out of sight, Jack sat up in his seat and put on his seatbelt.

 

He pulled the SUV onto the road and gripped the steering wheel tight. If he was going to catch Hannibal and Will before they had a chance to escape again, he would have to recruit some friends.

 

===

 

"I hope Archie is behaving for Phil," Will said as they drove. "It sure was nice of him to agree to watch our dog for us while we were gone," he added in an expositional attempt to cover up the fact that this author completely forgot about the dog _already_.

 

"Phil is a good man," Hannibal said. "I'm certain that he and Archimedes will get along just fine."

 

"Oh look, we're here," Will pointed out, conveniently bringing an end to the whole dog conversation. They were pulling into the driveway of the bizarre-looking home of Bedelia du Maurier.

 

"Let's hope that she's still here," Hannibal said, putting the car into park and removing his seatbelt. "If anyone were to see through the 'probably dead' thing, it would be Dr.du Maurier."

 

Will bounced his leg with nervous excitement. "Here's hoping she didn't heed my warnings last time I saw her."

 

They walked up to the front door and stood shoulder to shoulder in front of it. Hannibal raised a hand and rapped his knuckles three times on the wood. They waited.

 

It was only a matter of seconds before they heard noises from the inside of the house and the sound of the door unlocking. The door swung open into the foyer and there stood Bedelia dr Maurier, wearing a fuzzy purple Snuggie and drinking what smelled like straight vodka out of a water bottle.

 

"Oh, fuck me," she said, all of the color leaving her face.

 

"No thanks, I'm good," Hannibal replied with a knowing smile.

 

"Hello, Bedelia." Will was all grins. "Mind if we come in?"

 

Bedelia stepped aside without a word as the two men moved past her into the house. She suddenly really regretted that Googling "self-defense classes" wasn't the same as actually having gone to the classes.

 

Waltzing in like he owned the place, Hannibal crossed the house and sat down in the chair that he had so often occupied during his own therapy sessions at the home. Will stood behind him with a smirk on his face and one hand resting casually on Hannibal's shoulder.

 

Bedelia plopped down in her chair opposite them and took a long drink from her 'water' bottle. "And what brings you two gentlemen to my door?" she asked, attempting to sound smooth and not at all on the verge of peeing herself in fright.

 

"Oh, I think you know," Will said. "I gave you ample warning, yet you still didn't listen. Apparently I'm not the only one who didn't learn their lesson."

 

"We have unfinished business here," Hannibal crossed his legs and sat back in his chair, hands folded in his lap. "We found we were unable to fully settle into our new lives with things left as they were."

 

Bedelia ignored Hannibal and directed her gaze at Will. "So here you are together then," she said to him, voice dripping with Bedelia-ness. "Tell me, Will. Were the pomegranate seeds really as delicious as they seemed?"

 

Will pursed his lips. "An apt comparison," he said, "except Persephone was only obliged to live in the underworld half of the year. I have chosen Hades willingly _and_ for all eternity."

 

"Nice," Hannibal could appreciate a good literary smackdown. He raised a fist towards his shoulder and Will fist bumped him. Both men pulled their hands back, fingers splayed, and made explosion noises.

 

Bedelia sighed and rolled her eyes.

 

Hannibal uncrossed his legs and rose. "As much as I would enjoy a good session of bantering," he said, "it has been a long day and I would much like to...get this show on the road, as it were." Bedelia could only shrink down in her Snuggie as Hannibal approached her.

 

===

 

"Nooooooooooooooooooope!" Brian Zeller was saying.

 

"Oh come on, guys!" Jack Crawford was getting desperate. Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller were the last two people on his very short list of friends to ask for help. He'd cornered them in their lab and was trying frantically to persuade them to help.

 

"Did you not pay attention to our presentation at _all_?" Jimmy huffed. "Will and Hannibal are probably dead."

 

"And even if they're not," Zeller added, "they're _certainly_ not going to just show up at Lecter's old house like everything is fine."

 

"But that's exactly what they _did_ do!" Jack insisted. "I'm telling you, I saw them. I spoke to them. They're here, together, in Baltimore. _Right now_."

 

Jimmy and Brian only looked at one another then back at Jack, both of their expressions clearly indicating their feelings about Jack's sanity.

 

Jack put both of his hands on his head and growled in angered frustration. "Why will no one believe me?!" he bellowed to the ceiling.

 

Suddenly, there was a thump and a hiss as one of the doors on the cubby holes where they store dead bodies popped open. The tray slid out from the wall to reveal Freddie Lounds, lounging with a camera in one hand and a tape recorder in the other.

 

"I believe you, Jack," she said, sitting up and climbing down to the floor.

 

Jimmy looked at Zeller, the unspoken question of "Did you know she was in there?" written across his face.

 

Zeller could only frown and shrug in a "You know as much as I do!" sort of way.

 

"Miss Lounds," Jack said, not giving any indication that he was either surprised or not surprised to see her there. "You say that you believe me?"

 

Freddie stuffed several wires back into her purse and hung her camera around her neck. "I do," she said, approaching him.

 

"You have a gun, right?"

 

From the depths of her handbag, Freddie pulled out two fully loaded revolvers.

 

"Good," Jack nodded. "I'll take whatever I can get."

 

After Jack and Freddie had left the lab, Brian frowned. "Jack seems pretty insistent that Hannibal and Will are still alive," he said. "Maybe we should follow them, just to make sure."

 

Jimmy clapped his hands excitedly. "Ooh, field work!" he said. "I'll get my things!"

 

===

 

The sun had just finished setting outside as Hannibal placed Bedelia's roasted and decorated leg in the middle of her dining room table. Will followed him into the room, carrying the side dishes.

 

Bedelia herself sat at one end of the table, just coming out of the drugged stupor that Hannibal had placed her in. Once her eyes had fully adjusted to the light and the room, she looked down at herself and the revealing dress that she wore.

 

"This isn't my dress," she slurred, not even sure that she was talking out loud.

 

The smirk that Hannibal directed towards her showed that he at least had heard her. "No," he said simply, "it's not."

 

Will shifted his feet uncomfortably as he placed the side dishes on the table.

 

"I had hoped that Will might wear it," Hannibal explained, glancing at the other man, "but he seemed...less than eager."

 

Will swallowed. "It's not my color?" he offered as an excuse.

 

The two men instead were wearing tailored suits. Hannibal wore one of his usual three piece suits with a wide-knotted tie. Will wore his shirt with no tie and loose at the neck, his suit jacket hanging open casually.

 

"Will," Hannibal said, "could you help me pick out the wine?"

 

Bedelia lifted a shaky hand to the table after they had left the room, grabbing a sharp-pronged oyster fork from the plate in front of her and pulling it into her lap. She may not have a prayer of surviving this night, but she would give whichever man dared come close to her something to remember her by.

 

The fork clattered from her hand onto the floor beneath her chair, the muscles in her hand still weak and unresponsive from the drugs she'd been given.

 

"Well, shit," she said.

 

Hannibal returned to the dining room, bottle of wine in hand, and proceeded to fill the glasses on the table. Will took his seat along the side of the table and glanced at Bedelia. Seeing the glint of silver on the floor, he bent and picked up the dropped fork.

 

"Oops, you'll be needing this," he said, wiping it off on the skirt of Bedelia's dress and setting it on the table next to her plate.

 

"Thanks," Bedelia said sarcastically.

 

Hannibal wasted no time in carving three large portions of Bedelia's leg from the display in the center of the table, placing them on each of their plates. Will could barely wait until Hannibal had taken his seat before eagerly cutting a large chunk of the meat and stuffing it into his mouth. Hannibal smiled fondly at him as he cut a more sizeable piece for himself and put it in his own mouth.

 

The men chewed once, twice, before both of their faces twisted unpleasantly.

 

"Whoa," Will said around the meat in his mouth. "That's...that's strong."

 

Hannibal pressed his knuckles to his upper lip, eyes bulging as he forced himself to finish chewing and swallow the piece. He gagged as it went down his throat. "It is a bit much," he admitted.

 

Will spit the alcohol-infused meat into his napkin and swished a large drink of wine around in his mouth. "Gah, that's horrible," he said finally. "I feel like that time I drank half a bottle of Everclear in college."

 

"I thought the alcohol would cook out during preparation," Hannibal confessed.

 

"Should've cooked it longer, motherfuckers!" Bedelia exclaimed happily, raising her wine glass to them in salute then downing it all in one drink.

 

Hannibal delicately wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on the table in front of him. "I seem to have lost my appetite," he said.

 

"Yeah, me too." Will poured himself his fourth glass of water and chugged it down.

 

Hannibal collected their plates and took them to the kitchen. Bedelia grinned at Will .

 

"You have problems, lady," he said, eyeing her sideways.

 

" _I_ have problems?" she asked, amusement evident in her voice. "I'm not the one playing house with a convicted serial killer and cannibal."

 

"You did once," Will said contemptuously.

 

"And look at where that got me." Bedelia gestured around her and at the remains of her leg in the middle of the table. "How long until you outrun your usefulness to him?" she asked.

 

Will glared at her. "It's not the same," he said. "You were only an amusement to him. He _loves_ me."

 

"Hannibal is incapable of love," she sneered. "You are an obsession of his, that's all."

 

"You said yourself that he loves me," Will was growing angrier by the second.

 

Bedelia shrugged. "Did I?" she looked bored. "I didn't mean it, I must have been drunk."

 

Will slammed his fist into the table, rattling the cutlery. "Take it back!" he demanded.

 

Bedelia inspected her nails, absently chewing on the corner of one. "He'll get bored with you like he did with me."

 

The oyster fork that she had dropped on the floor earlier was plunged through her eye socket and into her brain before she even realized that Will had moved. She remained upright for a long moment before her head fell to the table in front of her with a comedic thud.

 

Will was on his feet, looking down at her now lifeless body, fists clenched. He'd wanted to do that for months.

 

Hannibal walked into the room and stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight in front of him. "Well that is certainly unexpected," he said, moving to gather more items from the table.

 

"She had it coming." Will's anger was giving way to satisfaction at what he'd done. It dawned on him then that Hannibal had probably really been looking forward to killing Bedelia himself. Will ran his hand across the back of his neck shyly. "Um, sorry," he said. "You had more right to kill her than I did."

 

Hannibal rounded the table to stand in front of him. "Don't apologize," he said, smiling. "It was probably more therapeutic for you to do it than for me." He handed the stack of dishes in his hands to Will. "Would you help bring these to the sink?"

 

Hannibal turned and picked up the remains of Bedelia's leg from the table and carried the large platter into the kitchen. Will followed behind him dutifully, running the things Bedelia had said over and over in his mind.

 

"Hannibal," he said quietly, setting the dishes on the counter. "Do you think you'll ever get bored with me?"

 

The other man turned quickly to look at him, surprise in his eyes. "My dear Will," he said, putting a hand to Will's cheek, "I will never tire of having you by my side."

 

Will put his hand on Hannibal's arm and leaned into his touch. "Do you mean that? You'll want me with you always?" He paused. "Alive?"

 

Hannibal brought his other arm up to cup Will's face with both hands. "I promise you, Will," he said, "I will never do another thing to harm you in all my life." He looked directly into Will's eyes and Will knew that he was telling the truth. He had nothing to fear from Hannibal Lecter ever again.

 

Hannibal returned to the sink and began clearing the dishes as Will stood silently to the side, watching. As he watched the older man trying to force an entire human leg down the garbage disposal, Will was overcome with the amount of love and completeness he felt just being near him.

 

"Marry me," Will blurted out suddenly.

 

Hannibal almost fell over into the sink at Will's words, catching himself on the two feet of leg sticking up from the drain. He reached over to flip off the garbage disposal and looked at Will. "Pardon?" he asked.

 

"Marry me," Will said again, stepping forward to grip Hannibal's lapels. He gazed up at him earnestly. "Let's get married."

 

Slowly, a wide smile spread across Hannibal's face, his heart about to leap out of his chest. He pulled Will into his arms and clutched him, burying his nose in the curls on top of the shorter man's head. "Ok."

 

===

 

It was almost 2am. The only lights along the street came from every third streetlight, the moon hidden behind a thick layer of clouds.

 

Jack's hands were on the steering wheel of his SUV, eyes glued to the large house across the street. In the passenger seat, Freddie Lounds sat filing her fingernails.

 

"It's getting stuffy in here," Jimmy Price said from the second row of seats. Brian Zeller was snoring quietly with his head in Jimmy's lap.

 

"How do you think I feel?" Alana's voice came from the back row of seats. "You two all but dragged me out of bed to go on this wild goose chase that Jack started and now I'm stuck back here with _this_ guy."

 

"Shcrew yu ahl," Frederick Chilton's lipless voice rasped.

 

"Shh, all of you," Jack whispered from the front seat. "They'll come back here, I know it."

 

A collective annoyed sigh came from the back of the vehicle, but everyone obediently remained quiet.

 

Fifteen minutes later, the silence was broken by Freddie sniffing the air. "Do you smell that?" she asked.

 

Jimmy sniffed exaggeratedly, waking Brian from where he was dozing. "Yeah, I smell it," Jimmy said.

 

"It smells sweet," Alana offered from the back seat.

 

"It smells like..." Zeller sat up in his seat and sniffed a few times. "Sevoflurane?"

 

Ten seconds later, all six people in the car were unconscious.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I wanted out of this chapter was the mental image of Hannibal trying to shove an entire human leg down a garbage disposal. Everything else (including Will proposing) was unplanned and came about because it fit with the Hannibal/leg thing. Perhaps my methods of writing are a bit backwards.
> 
> Thank you all for the continued reads, kudos, and comments! Always feel free to let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the key players, together under one roof. Hannibal and Will have a big announcement to make, but does Jack have the opportunity to put an end to this once and for all? Probably not.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XII

 

When the six meddlesome adults awoke, they found themselves seated at Hannibal Lecter's fancy dining room table. Bleary eyed and groggy, they opened their eyes one by one and took in their surroundings.  Each of them were strapped to a high backed chair at the table, an IV stand next to them with a thin tube disappearing past their right shoulders.  A large grandfather clock in the corner showed the time to be a quarter past six.  The sun outside the windows indicated that it was approaching evening, they'd been out of it for over fourteen hours.  The telltale smells of food preparation wafted in from the kitchen.

 

Jack tried to raise his hand and found he couldn't move much more than his eyes and mouth. "Well, this feels familiar," he said with a groan.

 

At the other end of the table, Jimmy and Brian were seated across from one another and finally noticed that they were all dressed in elegant dinner clothing.

 

"Nice tux," Brian attempted a nod towards his partner in science.

 

"You look very dashing yourself," Jimmy replied.

 

Freddie attempted to move her head enough to see the stylish dresses that she and Alana wore. "Where did these clothes come from?" she asked.  "I couldn't afford anything like this."

 

"Hannibal had me out shopping for you all morning," Will said as he entered the room.  He was sporting a tuxedo as well, unbuttoned over a double-breasted vest and long black necktie in lieu of a bowtie.  "He really has an amazing ability to guess peoples' sizes."

 

"Will!" the six people at the table chorused. Frederick Chilton's came out a bit more like "Ill!" but the intent was there.

 

"You're alive!" Alana gasped. "We all thought you were dead!"

 

"I didn't!" Jack exclaimed, jumping on the chance to gloat. "I told you all, I told everyone!  None of you believed me!"

 

"Nohuddy askt hme," Chilton offered.

 

"The evidence was compelling," Jimmy protested. "There's no way you could have survived that fall!"

 

"Wellllll..." Brian looked unsure of that fact. "I'm not so sure about that."

 

Freddie cut to the chase. "Why are we here, Will?" she demanded.

 

Hannibal took that moment to walk into the room, clad in his own shiny tuxedo.  The bowtie on his neck was tied so perfectly that it was entirely probable that it was a clip-on.

 

(Spoiler alert: It was.)

 

Everyone at the table gasped and recoiled - as much as they could - in their seats. Here before them was a man that none of them - except for Jack, but even him only recently - ever expected to see again.  A man they felt was the embodiment of cool, detached evil.  A devil in the flesh.  More machine now than man.  Twisted and...y'know what, nevermind.

 

Hannibal stood at the head of the table next to Will and let his gaze wander across each person at the table in turn, a small smile curled on his lips.  Suddenly, he clapped his hands together excitedly and grinned.

 

"It's so great to have you all here!" he exclaimed, all giddy smiles and teeth. "I couldn't ask to share this momentous occasion with any better group of pigsIMEANpeople!"

 

"And what occasion is that?" Jack asked, not entirely sure that he really wanted to know.

 

Hannibal laid a finger alongside his nose and winked.  "Big announcements are best left for dessert.  Will, could you help me bring out the dishes?" Hannibal turned and headed back towards the kitchen.

 

As Will turned to follow, Alana spoke up. "Will!  Don't do this!" she said.  "Let us go!"

 

Will gave her a good long look and then shrugged. "Nah," he said and headed toward the kitchen as well.

 

A few minutes later, Hannibal and Will had placed elegantly plated dishes in front of each of their guests and took their seats at opposite ends of the long table. The drugs the guests had been given had worn off enough that they could now lift their right arms to feed themselves, their left arms remained strapped to their sides.

 

"But I'm left handed!" Jimmy whined, awkwardly trying to hold his fork in his non-dominant hand.

 

Ever the polite host, Hannibal stood and strapped Jimmy's right hand down, leaving his left hand free for use.

 

"Anyone else?" Hannibal asked, considerately.  When no one replied, he returned to his seat.

 

"I, for one, am excited," Brian said. "Jimmy and I were never invited to any of Hannibal's fancy dinners."

 

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Hannibal asked, genuinely confused.

 

Jimmy gasped, insulted. "We work in the lab!  You know us!"

 

Hannibal frowned and shook his head.  "I don't think we've met."

 

Jimmy huffed indignantly.

 

"Why would you guys _want_ to be invited to Hannibal's dinners?" Alana asked.  "You _know_ what he does!"

 

"Yes, Hannibal.  Tell us," Jack poked at the slab bleeding medium rare on his plate.  "What exactly is the meat this evening?"

 

Hannibal paused with his fork halfway to his mouth.  "Pooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkk?" he said slowly and unconvincingly.

 

Frederick groaned.

 

Alana looked in disbelief at Will stuffing his food in his mouth like he hadn't eaten in days. "And you're ok with this, Will?"

 

Will swallowed uncomfortable around a rather large bite and looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he shrugged and stuffed another bite in his mouth.  "You never seemed to have any problem _eating Hannibal's meat_ before," he said, bugging his eyes out accusingly.

 

Alana looked angrily at the table in front of her, refusing to dignify that with a response. If there's anything she hated, it was people telling the truth.

 

The rest of dinner passed in relative civility. Jimmy and Brian ate their meals like they didn't have a care in the world.  Fred and Freddie ate around the meat on their plates out of persistent hunger while Jack and Alana flat out refused to touch anything in front of them.

 

Hannibal passed the time by telling happy tales of Will's and his life together in Charleston, at least half of the guests wondering ominously why he would feel so free to tell them where the two fugitives were living.  When he excitedly told of his recent promotion, Jack's eyes widened.

 

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed. "That was true?!"

 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow questioningly.

 

"The FBI got an anonymous tip that Hannibal Lecter was working as a door greeter at a South Carolina Walmart," Jack explained. "We had a good laugh about it for at _least_ a week."

 

"Hannibal takes his job at Walmart very seriously," Will said, voice a bit stern in response to someone laughing at his boyfriend's expense.  "They say no one in Walmart history has ever been promoted to manager so quickly!"  He positively radiated pride at the other's accomplishments.

 

When dinner had been cleared and dessert placed in front of each person at the table, Jimmy and Brian continued to dig in hungrily. The rest of the guests didn't trust Hannibal to not have somehow have included human in their ice cream sundaes.

 

Instead of sitting down, Hannibal moved to the other end of the table and put his hand on the back of Will's chair.  Will wiped his mouth quickly and rose to stand next to him.

 

"Now that we've reached the high spirits that dessert brings," Hannibal said, smiling broadly, "the time for happy announcements has arrived!"

 

Everyone at the table turned to give him all of their attention. This should be good.

 

Will shyly looked at the floor in front of him, cheeks tinting pink as Hannibal put his arm around his waist.

 

"Will and I," Hannibal paused for dramatic effect, grinning from ear to ear, "are getting married!"

 

Jimmy and Brian bounced in their seats excitedly and squealed.

 

"Congratulations!" Brian exclaimed.

 

"Mazel tov!" Jimmy chimed in.

 

Figuring that he surely was already dead and that there was probably no punishment for cannibalism in Hell, Frederick decided he might as well eat his dessert.

 

Freddie cleared her throat. "That's fantastic," she tried to sound like she meant it.

 

Hannibal hugged Will to his side tightly.  "Yes, isn't it?!" he asked.  "There we were, disposing of what remained of dear Dr.du Maurier-"

 

"Wait, what?" Jack interjected.

 

Hannibal ignored him.  "When Will just...popped the question!  Totally out of the blue!" Hannibal fanned himself with one hand.  "I was so surprised, I simply can NOT tell you!"  He sighed and looked at the embarrassed man clutched to his side.  "But of course, I said yes."

 

"Hannibal wanted you all to be here for the announcement," Will finally spoke up.

 

"And why is that?" Alana asked.

 

"Well," Hannibal began, "first off because you were all already _here_ , you big sillies!  Did you honestly not think we'd notice you parked across the street?"

 

"That was the plan," Jack mumbled.

 

Hannibal's expression turned to one of genuine regret.  "And because Will and I have decided that we'd like to have a small wedding.  Just us, the priest, and a couple of friends from our DND group as witness."

 

"Intimate," Will agreed.

 

Hannibal positively giggled.  "It sounds so dirty when he says that!"  He playfully slapped Will's ass.  "So we thought we could have this special wedding feast with you, our dearest former friends, so that you wouldn't feel left out."

 

"That was very considerate of you!" Brian nodded appreciatively.

 

"Happy to be here!" Jimmy agreed.

 

Freddie raised her hand in question. "So then what's to become of us?" she asked.  "When you return home?"

 

"Obviously, we can't leave you alive," Hannibal looked genuinely saddened by the thought of killing...at least a couple of them.  "We enjoy our lives together too much to worry about people suspecting that we're alive."

 

"But if the six of us go missing or wind up dead," Alana protested, "everyone will know it was you!"

 

"Hannibal has a genius idea to make it look like you all died in a skiing accident," Will said.  "No one will suspect anything of an unfortunate accident befalling a group of friends on holiday."

 

Everyone at the table could think of at least three different things to suspect about that scenario, not the least of which was the idea of Frederick Chilton skiing in his current condition.

 

They didn't have long to ponder it, however, because throughout the course of dinner, Jack had managed to free his other arm and regained use of his body. Now he sprung to his feet.

 

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" he bellowed and lunged at Hannibal and Will.

 

Hannibal has different reflexes depending on the situation and in this situation, his reflex for being caught truly and completely off-guard kicked in.  Which is to say that he shrieked like a little girl and ran flailing from the room.

 

Will was left to take the brunt of Jack's impact, knocking them both to the floor in a flurry of attempts to take control.

 

Will managed to push Jack's weight off of himself and rolled to the side, springing to his feet. He grabbed a decorative katana from the wall behind him and held it defensively between Jack and himself.  Jack stood and took a rather impressive looking battleaxe from above the mantle and advanced on him.

 

It only took two loud clangs of metal on metal before Jack's axe rent the blade of Will's decorative katana in two. Will cast the stub of a sword aside and planted a foot on his discarded chair, fleeing from the room by way of unnecessarily running down the length of the dining room table.

 

"Hey, my ice cream!" Jimmy whined as his sundae was kicked off the table and fell to the floor next to his chair where he couldn't reach it.

 

Jack took only a moment to embed his axe in Alana's chair, severing her restraints and IV line, before taking off in a jog after Will.

 

Once out of the dining room and through an adjacent room, Will found himself in a large foyer. Two stories to the ceiling, it was done completely in white and gray marble, stone columns stretching to a ceiling painted with clouds and cherubs.  Punching a fist into a concealed wall panel, Will selected two large handguns from a revealed wall safe and ran to press his back against the far side of one of the columns.

 

Hot on his heels, Jack raced into the room and, spotting the open wall safe, grabbed a crossbow and a handle full of bolts. A barrage of gunfire came at him from the far side of the room, so he kicked a nearby table onto its side and took cover behind it.

 

The gunfire stopped as Will reloaded. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" he singsonged.

 

Jack loaded a bolt into his crossbow and carefully took aim over the edge of the table. His patience was rewarded when Will poked his head around a far column, jerking it back to cover a mere instant before Jack's bolt whizzed by his ear.

 

Jack's effort was met with another hail of gunfire as he pressed his back against the underside of the table and frantically tried to reload his crossbow.

 

"Damn me!" he said. "Damn me for bringing such an impractical weapon to a gun fight!"

 

He took aim over the table again as the gunfire stopped, just in time to see Will toss his empty handguns aside and run through a far door. Jack abandoned his crossbow and took off in pursuit.

 

Once through the door and down a long winding flight of stairs, Jack found himself in the vast, cavernous room that housed the 6 nuclear reactors that powered Hannibal's Baltimore home.  Metal platforms, floating in midair, moved seemingly at random up and down and side to side across the room.  Giant arcs of electricity shot periodically across the room from one reactor to the next.

 

"What the fuck is this shit?!" Jack shrieked.

 

He didn't have time to dwell on the improbable nature of the room because he quickly spotted Will halfway to the other side, hopping from platform to platform as they crossed paths.

 

Jack took a deep breath and jumped to the closest platform as it zoomed past him, making his way towards Will.

 

===

 

Meanwhile, Alana had finished freeing herself and quickly removed the IV lines and restraints from everyone else at the table.

 

"I'm going to find Hannibal," she told them and ran (as best she could in a ball gown and heels) in the direction that Hannibal had fled, towards the kitchen.

 

Not finding him there, she followed the faint sound of music drifting in through a series of open doors before finding herself in a grand ballroom. It was nearly the size of half a football field with a ceiling that stretched up several stories to a beautiful glass domed roof.

 

"How did I never know this was here?" she asked of no one, in shock of her surroundings.

 

"I said I worked very hard to blind you," Hannibal's voice came from behind her.

 

Alana didn't have time to react before Hannibal grabbed her from behind and spun her to face him, pulling her into a proper dancing posture.

 

"Dance with me, Alana," he said. A knife held flat against the center of her back in his right hand was all the urging she needed to follow his lead in a grand waltz around the ballroom.

 

"I must confess," Hannibal said after two circuits of the room, "that I never really cared about you."

 

"Given the circumstances," Alana met his gaze evenly, "I can't say that I'm overly broken up about it."

 

"Alas," Hannibal continued, "my heart has always belonged to Will."

 

"Obviously."

 

"I hope that isn't too upsetting to you."

 

"No, really. It's cool."

 

"I would hate for you to feel I betrayed your love when I kill you."

 

"Oh no, I totally get that."

 

Freddie, Jimmy, and Brian took that moment to race into the ballroom, hoping to provide back-up to Alana with the range of makeshift weapons they'd picked up along the way. Frederick Chilton, meanwhile, had done the thing any smart person would've done and gotten the fuck out of there.

 

"There they are!" Freddie said, brandishing a rolling pin.

 

"He's got a knife! We've got to help her!"  Jimmy was hefting the weighty bust of some dead poet or philosopher or something.

 

Just then, the music transitioned seamlessly from the waltz to a slow Spanish melody and Hannibal adjusted his stance easily and forced Alana into a tango.

 

Brian stopped from where he'd been advancing with a rather pointy flower arrangement. "Oh no, a sexy tango between enemies," he said.  "We can't interrupt that."

 

Freddie and Jimmy also stopped in their advance. Brian was right.  It was one of the main rules when dealing with an evil mastermind.  You never interrupt a seductive and deadly tango.

 

Alana tensed, the flat edge of the knife digging between her shoulder blades as Hannibal pulled their bodies closer together.

 

"Now," he said, "about that promise I made."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left in part 1 of my story! Hope you've enjoyed it so far! Love to you all!


	13. Chapter XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The exciting conclusion to the epic showdown that began in the previous chapter! Will and Jack battle it out while Hannibal and Alana have a war of the wills! When all is said and done, who will be left standing? What regrets will Hannibal and Will have over how things turned out? Let's find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About once per chapter, I stop and ask myself "Am I going too far?" Then I decide I don't care and write it anyways.
> 
> 2 updates in 2 days, crazy right? I was just too excited to continue where we left off in Chapter XII, what can I say?

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII

 

Jack Crawford picked his way across the seemingly improbable reactor room of Hannibal Lecter's apparently-way-bigger-than-it-looks-from-the-outside house. Twice, Jack narrowly avoided being vaporized by stray arcs of electricity that randomly sizzled through the air.

 

Almost to the far door of the room, Will turned to see Jack quickly advancing towards him across the moving platforms. Will picked his way across three more platforms, finally only one jump from the exit.

 

"Will!"

 

He turned and spotted Jack as he zoomed by on a platform a good thirty feet above him.

 

"You wait right there!" Jack pointed at him.

 

Will stared at him incredulously. "Are you kidding me?" he asked.  "You can't get down here, you'll break your fucking neck!"

 

"Fucking WATCH ME!" Jack shouted, launching himself off of his platform.

 

Will flinched and closed his eyes, waiting for the sickening crunch of Jack's legs accordion-folding in on themselves on landing. When the sound didn't come, he peeked open an eye just in time to see Jack land safely on a nearby platform in the graceful roll of a seasoned dancer.

 

"I got you now!" Jack said, rising to his feet.

 

Will let out a worried squeak and jumped the last several feet to the exit, dashing through with Jack hot on his heels.

 

Once through the door, they found themselves in Hannibal's garage.  The vastness and sheer multitude of cars rivaled even Jay Leno's garage, cars of every shape and color and size.

 

Will stopped and faced Jack, a smile spread across his face. "How about we settle this like men?" he asked.

 

"I thought you'd never ask," Jack smiled back.

 

Several minutes later, the two men pulled their cars side by side at the entrance to the canals known as Thunder Road that I'm certain must surely exist in every major city.  Jack revved the engine of the matte black Trans Am that he'd taken from Hannibal's garage.  The bumper of Will's purple Mustang inched forward.

 

Frederick Chilton, who had been limping across the canals in an attempt to get back to the hospital where he belonged, was reluctantly standing fifty feet ahead of them, flag in hand. He raised the flag above his head and lowered it in a jerky swoop.  As the two cars' engines roared and passed on either side of him, he dropped the flag on the ground and continued his hobbling journey back to the ICU.

 

===

 

"Now, about that promise I made," Hannibal repeated purely to remind the reader of where we last left him and Alana.

 

"I haven't forgotten," Alana narrowed her eyes at him, swapping their positions and taking control of the tango, backing Hannibal across the dance floor.

 

"Then you'll also remember that I always keep my promises." Hannibal regained the lead, dipping Alana like a roast beef sandwich _au jus_ and pulling her back up, their bodies pressed together.

 

"Ehhh, I don't think that's true," Alana said. "You made an awful lot of promises right after you were incarcerated that I don't think you meant."

 

Hannibal pursed his lips angrily.  "Those promises were under duress.  I can't be held accountable for them."

 

Alana pointed her toes, legs rigid, and allowed Hannibal to drag her across the floor dramatically, ending in another dip.  "There was a lot of _Please, Alana! I'll never kill again, I promise!  Just let me out of here!_ " she adopted a mocking tone.  "And a fair amount of crying and begging, if I recall."

 

Hannibal snapped her up from the dip a little rougher than was necessary.  "Like I said," he seethed.  "Under duress."

 

Alana continued her mocking recollections of Hannibal's early and darkest days in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.  " _I promise I'll never eat people again! Just let me at least have my suits!_ "  She took the lead again.

 

Hannibal extended one leg up gracefully to rest on Alana's shoulder, eyes shooting metaphorical daggers at her.  "I know one promise I'm about to make good on!"  He tightened his grip on the knife behind her back.

 

She took that moment to kick Hannibal square in the nads, sending him toppling to the floor with an agonized whimper.  The knife in his hand clattered harmlessly to the side, where Alana kicked it far from his reach.

 

"Let's find Jack and get out of here!" she called to Freddie, Jimmy, and Brian, who were still standing on the edge of the room watching. They snapped out of it and nodded, following Alana through a side door and back into the house proper.

 

===

 

Will pulled himself from the burning wreckage of the purple Mustang, the car resting precariously on its smashed roof. A few feet away, Jack stumbled to his feet, blood running down his forehead and into one eye.  He pulled off his tuxedo jacket and used it to wipe the blood from his vision.

 

Their race had circled them around and brought them back to the street behind the expansive grounds of Hannibal's back yard.  Will pulled himself to his feet and took off through the gardens towards the back of the house, Jack close behind.

 

Halfway across a large courtyard, Will stopped and turned. "This ends now!" he shouted.  He flung his arm to the side and the glowing red blade of his lightsaber flashed out with a _snap-hiss_.  He held it in both hands and raised it high above his head in a ready stance.

 

Jack continued towards him, producing a lightsaber of his own. The blue blade shot out as he advanced on his opponent at a full run.

 

The colored blades met in a brilliant flash of light and sparks in the middle of the courtyard. Jack and Will began an elaborate and fast-paced lightsaber battle.  They jumped and flipped in ways none would have thought possible of the two men, competing for the upper hand in the fight, neither able to overtake the other.

 

Alana and the gang took this moment to run out into the courtyard from a side entrance, skidding to a halt at the scene before them.

 

"No," Alana held out a hand to stop Brian and Jimmy from rushing to help. "Jack needs to do this alone."

 

Will and Jack leapt and jumped around and over each other, red and blue blades meeting in a flurry of electrical clashes. Their skills with the lightsaber were so evenly matched that neither could gain the advantage.  Will managed to knock Jack to the ground, only for Jack to arch his back and jump into a standing position before Will had a chance to act on his temporary opportunity.

 

A particularly well-timed shoulder charge from Jack sent Will's lightsaber clattering away across the cobblestones of the courtyard. Will dropped to the ground and slid feet-first towards his fallen blade, only for Jack to kick it out of his reach at the last moment.

 

Will scrambled backwards across the cobblestones and jumped to his feet. Building up all the energy he could, he unleashed a torrent of lightning from his fingertips.  The electricity jumped and arced its way across the distance to Jack, but time seemed to slow down as Jack bent backwards in a seemingly gravitationally impossible way and the lightning shot harmlessly over him.

 

Completely drained of all energy to fight, Will turned and ran towards the back of the house. If he could only get inside...

 

But his last attack had taken it all out of him and he could barely control his legs. He tripped and stumbled to the ground partway up the 200 steps into the back of Hannibal's house.  He scrambled up the stairs on all fours frantically as Jack approached him with a calm resolve.  Will turned to face him, out of breath.

 

Jack stood towering over Will, lightsaber hanging to his side. His face twisted in barely controlled emotion, holding back bitter tears that threatened to fall.

 

"You were the chosen one!" he shouted at Will. "It was said that you would destroy the Chesapeake Ripper, not join him!  Bring balance to the law, not leave it in darkness!"

 

Will's fingers clawed at the marble steps behind him desperately. "I hate you!" he spat out.

 

The tears rolled freely from Jack's eyes now. "You were my brother, Will," he said quietly.  "I loved you."  He raised his lightsaber in front of him.  "But I will do what I must."

 

"NO!" a voice rang out from the top of the stairs. Hannibal stood for a moment before rushing down the steps towards them.  "YOU WILL NOT TAKE HIM FROM ME!"

 

"Your anger and your lust for power have already done that!" Jack snarled up at him, lightsaber still held ready to strike.

 

"Uh, Jack," Will said from beneath him, "I'm not sure that one really works."

 

Jack looked down at his former protégé, eyes red. "You have allowed this _monster_ to twist your mind, until now...now you have become the very thing you swore to destroy!"

 

Will took the time spent on the unnecessary dialog to climb to his feet, retreating a few steps towards the approaching Hannibal.  "Don't lecture me, Jack!" Will said.  "I see through the lies of the FBI.  I do not fear Hannibal as you do!"

 

Jack had decided that he'd had just about enough of this totally ripped-off exchange and narrowed his eyes, raising his lightsaber further. "I will do what I must," he said coolly and lunged at Will.

 

Still several steps above, Hannibal shouted something unintelligible as he stuck his arm out to his side.  A large replica of the statue of the David tore itself free from a nearby pedestal and flew through the air, smashing into Jack and throwing him backwards down the stairs.

 

"JACK!" Alana, Jimmy, Brian, and Freddie shouted at once, rushing towards the man who now lay unconscious at the bottom of the steps, surrounded by broken chunks of marble.

 

Hannibal, meanwhile, had finally reached Will.  "Come," he pulled the younger man to him, "let's get out of here."

 

===

 

Once they were in the Bentley and on the road, Will sat in the passenger seat with his head in his hands.

 

"This sucks," he massively understated.

 

"I agree," Hannibal agreed.  "I was greatly looking forward to my new responsibilities at Walmart."

 

"Now we'll never be able to go home," Will said. "I really liked it in Charleston.  I miss Archie already!"  He lamented the loss of yet another beloved dog.

 

"I was really looking forward to meeting the genius behind all of the evil chimera attacks," Hannibal sighed.

 

Will looked at him. "Really?" he asked.  "Everything we've lost and you're upset we won't find out how the DND campaign ends?"

 

"I am emotionally invested in my character's success," Hannibal explained.  "Unlike _some_ people."

 

"I just wish we could go back and do this day over," Will sighed. "We should've just done what we needed to do and left, without all the grandstanding and gloating over dinner."

 

"We could," Hannibal stated simply.  "If you really want to."

 

Will let out a scoff of a laugh. "Yeah, us and what time machine?"

 

"The one I keep in Virginia," Hannibal was serious.

 

"Wait, what?" Will asked.

 

"I have a time machine," Hannibal was still serious.

 

"Wait, you're serious?"

 

"Yes, I'm serious."

 

Come on, Will. Keep up!

 

"Well then _hell yes_ let's go back and fix the stupid mess we made today!" Will exclaimed, accepting this whole time machine thing a little too easily.

 

===

 

The sky had grown completely dark by the time Hannibal parked the Bentley in the driveway of a large mansion nestled in the middle of the woods of Virginia.  This house might be the largest of any Hannibal owned.

 

"So, when you said your 'storage facility'...." Will was saying as he climbed out of the car and look at the house looming over them, "I thought you meant....storage facility."

 

Hannibal punched a code into the keypad mounted next to the front door and entered the house, Will following behind.  They crossed the foyer and ascended three flights of stairs before Hannibal flipped the lights on in a large room filled with boxes and large items covered in white drop clothes.  Against the wall of the room sat a large contraption that Will had only seen in pictures and movies.

 

The time machine from the movie "The Time Machine."

 

"Oh shit man!" Will exclaimed like the stoner he wasn't. "Is that your time machine?!"

 

Hannibal gave him an appropriate "What are you smoking?" look before crossing the room.  "No," he said.  "This is where I keep all of my movie replicas and memorabilia that I didn't have room for in my house."  He opened up a drawer in a nearby desk and pulled out a large skeleton key.  "I needed to retrieve this."

 

Will followed Hannibal back out of the room, down a hall, and into a bedroom.  Against one wall stood a large, ornate, wood carved wardrobe.  A large and intricate lion's head was carved across the seam where the doors met. Hannibal inserted the skeleton key and turned it with a satisfying click, the doors swinging open.  Inside was a mass of fur shawls and coats. Hannibal spread the coats apart and climbed into the wardrobe, disappearing amongst all the fur.  Will was standing and staring in shock when Hannibal poked his head back out from between the furs.

 

"Are you coming, Will?"

 

Will came back to the moment and shook his head. "Coming!" he said, taking the offered hand and climbing into the wardrobe and pulling the door shut behind them.

 

Inside the wardrobe was dark and musty, the smell of old clothing and furs filled the air. It was too dark to see, Will could only put his hands out and feel ahead of himself.  Where logic stated there should be the back wall of the wardrobe, there were only more furs.  Step after step, Will could only delve deeper into the dark.

 

Until all the sudden, the ground dropped out from under his foot and he toppled unceremoniously out of the wardrobe and onto the floor. Looking around himself eagerly, he found that he was now just in another room of the house.

 

"Well, I don't know what I expected," he said, standing up to brush himself off.

 

"This way," Hannibal said, leading them out of the room and down a long winding flight of stairs.

 

At the bottom of the stairs, Will found himself in a small concrete basement. The room was completely empty except for one item.

 

A large, blue police box.

 

Hannibal stood next to the police box and smiled.  He held out his hand for Will in invitation.

 

Will stepped forward with a grin as Hannibal opened the door for him.  Stepping inside, Will found himself....in an elevator.

 

Hannibal moved inside and pulled the door shut, hitting the button for a sub-basement.

 

Frankly, getting a little tired of this teasing bullshit, Will spent the elevator ride down with his arms crossed across his chest and huffing silently.

 

His ire was quickly displaced, however, when the elevator door opened to reveal a long tunnel leading off into the distance ahead of them. Parked right in front of them, nose of the car pointed towards the darkness far beyond, was a shiny silver Delorean.

 

Will grabbed Hannibal's sleeve excitedly, practically bouncing on his toes.

 

Smiling wide, Hannibal opened the passenger door for Will then climbed into the driver's seat on the other side.

 

Both doors closed, seatbelts securely in place, Hannibal started the car.  The engine came to life with a delicious purr.  Will gripped his seatbelt in anticipation.

 

Hannibal placed both his hands on the steering wheel and grinned at Will.  "Ready?" he asked.

 

Will could only nod enthusiastically.

 

Hannibal put the car into gear and it began to move forward down the cavern.

 

Then immediately stopped.

 

Still grinning, Hannibal turned off the engine, removed the key from the ignition, took off his seatbelt, and climbed out of the car.

 

Will screamed internally.

 

Getting out of the car as well, Will turned to see Hannibal opening the door on a safe built into the floor that was right underneath where the Delorean had been parked. Hannibal opened the safe and pulled out a small velvet pouch.  Opening the silk drawstring, he pulled out a small silver disk with a number dial on it.

 

He held it out towards Will, beaming. "Voila!" Hannibal said.  "My time machine!"

 

" _That's_ your time machine???" Will asked in disbelief.

 

Hannibal frowned.  "What did you think it would be?"

 

Will stared at him for a long, dumbfounded minute before shaking his head. "Never mind," he said.  "How does it work?"

 

Hannibal indicated the dial on top of the disk.  "You put the date and time here," he explained, "then you push the green button.  Easy enough."

 

"Ok then," Will nodded. "Let's go."

 

Hannibal looked uncertain for a minute.  "I was thinking, Will," he began.

 

"Yes?"

 

"With this time machine, we have the ability to go back and change more than just the events of today," Hannibal said slowly.

 

"I suppose that's true," Will said, supposing that was true. "What do you have in mind?"

 

Hannibal averted his eyes in a rare show of weakness.  "There aren't many thing that I regret in my life," he said quietly.  "Now that I have you, I could almost say that I regret nothing I have ever done because it all led to the life that we have together now."

 

"But?" Will assumed this was getting somewhere.

 

"But," Hannibal sighed and met his eyes, "there are things I would change for your happiness."

 

Will's eyes widened, finally understanding. "Abigail?" he gasped.

 

Hannibal frowned slightly.  "Well, I was thinking of that time I made you scallops, not knowing about your horrible shellfish allergy, and you spent the remainder of the evening explosively vomiting all over my Persian rug...but I suppose the whole Abigail thing too."

 

Will took Hannibal's hand in his.  "Let's do it," he said in quiet excitement.  "Let's go back and fix all the wrongs we did to one another."

 

"Completely ignoring any potential time paradoxes we may create?" Hannibal asked, breathless and pulling Will into an embrace.

 

Will clung to him. "Time paradoxes be damned!"

 

Hannibal smiled into Will's curly mop of hair.  On the time machine in his hand, he input the date that he and Will first met and pressed the green button.

 

END OF PART ONE

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of Part One! I never intended this fic to be in parts, but y'know how fics just kinda get a mind of their own, right?
> 
> Starting in the next chapter, we'll be commencing Part Two of my story! Will and Hannibal are going back to the beginning of season 1 to try to fix some of the horrible things they did to one another. If all goes as planned (for me, probably not for them), each chapter will follow an episode of the show.
> 
> I'm hoping that with the new "format" and "plot", it'll be easier for me to keep this fic updated on more of a schedule. *crosses fingers, knocks on wood, spins in a circle, spits on the floor*


	14. Chapter -XXXIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal have gone back in time to the 1st episode of season 1, determined to right so many of the wrongs that they had done to each other in the past. Once they get their former selves out of the way, the Murder Husbands are free to relive the time when they first met with all the foreknowledge of things to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the beginning of Part Two of my story! I hope you continue to enjoy it, despite this change of gears. We're starting in the middle of episode 1 so we can get all the establishing stuff out of the way, but I hope to do justice to each episode as best I can! I'm using the shooting scripts from [Living Dead Guy](http://livingdeadguy.com/shows/hannibal/) but I don't plan to make you read entire chunks of dialog straight from the show. I'll try to only include enough original dialog to help you visualize the scene that Future!Hannibal and Future!Will are undoubtedly fucking up.

 

 

 

CHAPTER -XXXIX

 

Hannibal and Will sat in one of Hannibal's back-up cars (a Rolls, of course) that he kept at one of his secondary houses.  They were parked in a far corner of the parking lot outside the FBI Academy in Quantico, VA.

 

"Are you sure this is where you were this morning?" Hannibal asked Will.

 

"Yes, it's a Wednesday," Will said. "I always taught on Wednesday mornings.  Besides, my car is here."  He gestured to his old beater a few rows away. Hannibal visibly cringed.

 

As if on cue, Will Graham of the past walked out of a side door and across the parking lot. Glasses low on his nose, chin lowered almost to his chest.  Baggy plaid shirt and feet shuffling along the pavement.

 

"You look like hell." Hannibal was never one to pull his punches.

 

"Yeah, if I remember correctly," Will furrowed his brow as he watched himself unlocking his car, "I think I headed home now to take care of the dogs. Winston, the new one, kept getting picked on by the others the first few days."

 

Hannibal and Will followed Past!Will out of the parking lot and onto the road, through a Taco Bell drive-thru, and onto the highway headed towards Wolf Trap. They waited til Past!Will was halfway to his front door before pulling up the drive and parking behind his car.  Past!Will turned to frown at the strange, expensive car.

 

Hannibal opened his car door and stood, giving Past!Will a long, interested once-over.

 

"I'm sorry," Past!Will said. "Do I know you?"

 

Hannibal said nothing as the passenger door of the Rolls-Royce opened and Will climbed out.  The two Wills met eyes, Hannibal could practically hear the wheels spinning out of control in Past!Will's head all the way across the yard.

 

"Who-" Past!Will stuttered. "Who are you?!"

 

"I'm you," Will said, stepping around the car next to Hannibal and leaning against it casually.  "From the future."

 

Past!Will let out a nervous laugh. "Ha!  Ha...yeah, right.  Who are you really?"

 

Will took a few steps towards him, causing his former self to stumble backwards and almost fall onto the steps leading up to the porch. "I'm you," Will said again, "in about seven years, give or take."

 

"Prove it," Past!Will demanded, also giving in to the concept of time travel far easier than he probably should.

 

Will sighed. "Our name is William Ichabod Graham, our favorite movie is _Sleepless in Seattle_ , and we once made out with a horse on a drunken dare in college, which may or may not have something to do with the fact that we're a closet Brony."

 

Past!Will blinked at him several times, unsure how to respond to someone saying all his most intimate secrets out loud. He opted not to comment and instead asked, "Then who's he?"  He turned his gaze to Hannibal, still leaning against the car.

 

Will turned and looked at Hannibal and smiled.  "He's our fiancé."

 

Past!Will's eyebrows disappeared up into his hairline in a look of disbelief. "But I'm not gay," he said.

 

Will let out a laugh so loud and sudden that it startled his former self. "Yeah," Will said, "tell that to your dick."

 

Past!Will looked between the two unlikely men in front of him several times before sighing and gesturing back to the house. "I suppose you had better come in," he said, resigned.

 

Once seated at the end of his bed across from the two men in arm chairs, Past!Will scrubbed at his face with his hand. The dogs milled around him uneasily, unsure which Will they should be giving their attention to.  Past!Will directed his attention to Hannibal.  "So who are you and why are we engaged?"

 

"My name is Hannibal Lecter," he introduced himself, "and we're engaged because we are very much in love. We are best friends and lovers, soul mates and life partners, the only beings who understand one another completely.  We are one beating heart, split between the breasts of two sexually charged men."

 

Past!Will looked skeptical and a little queasy for a moment before the name clicked in his mind. "Wait, Hannibal Lecter?" he asked.  "The psychiatrist Jack is bringing in on the missing girls case?  I'm supposed to meet with you and Jack this afternoon."

 

"Ah yes," Hannibal smiled.  "The first time we met."  He looked over at Will fondly and reached out, lacing their fingers and leaving their hands to hang together between their chairs.  "I remember that day well," he said.  "Do you, sweetypumpkin?"

 

Will smiled back at him and gave his hand a squeeze. "I do," he answered.  "Though I was a _bit_ unreceptive of your company at first."  He winked.

 

Deciding he'd rather not hear any more details of this unlikely future relationship with some man he hasn't even met yet, Past!Will elected to change the subject. "What happened to you, er- us?" he asked of Will.  "Where did all the scars come from?"

 

"Hannibal gave them to me," Will stated simply, as if it weren't the most fucked up thing ever.  "Well, most of them anyways."

 

"You should see _under_ his clothes," Hannibal chimed in, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Past!Will blanched. He cleared his throat.  "So, um, why are you here?"

 

"The beginnings of our relationship was a tumultuous time," Hannibal explained.  "There are things that we would change."

 

"So you're going to, what?" Past!Will asked. "Tell me what to do?"

 

"Heavens, no," Hannibal laughed.  "You're far too lacking in chill in your current state to get things right."  He looked at the Will from his own timeline apologetically.  "No offense."

 

Will waved a hand dismissively. "None taken."

 

Hannibal stood and took a step towards Past!Will and stuck his hands in the pockets of his nice suit.  "We simply don't trust you to get things right," he said, "so we're going to take the place of our former selves to ensure that things go exactly as we would like them to."

 

A flash of understanding crossed Past!Will's face and his eyes widened as he jumped to his feet. "Now wait a minute-"

 

Will stood as well, advancing on him. "It's nothing personal," he said.

 

"I think this is the very _definition_ of personal!" was the last thing Past!Will shrieked before he was conked on the head and everything went black.

 

===

 

An hour and a half later, Hannibal and Will found themselves standing on the doorstep of Hannibal's house in Baltimore.  Past!Will was properly bound and gagged in the trunk of the Rolls-Royce parked on the street out front. Hannibal knocked on the door sharply.

 

Almost a full minute later, the door opened to reveal Past!Hannibal, coat on as if he were about to leave.  If he were at all surprised to see himself standing on his front porch, he didn't show it.

 

"Please, come in," he stepped aside to let them enter. Once inside with the door shut behind them, he turned to face his two guests.  "How far from the future have you come?" he asked as if this were a totally normal conversation to be having.

 

"About seven years, give or take," Will answered.

 

"And you are?" Past!Hannibal gave him a quick once over.

 

"This is Will Graham," Hannibal said.  "He's our fiancé."

 

Past!Hannibal looked at Will again, giving him a long and approving look up and down.  He stepped closer to his future self and gave him a hard congratulatory high-five.

 

The Hannibals grinned at each other.  "So what can I do for you?" Past!Hannibal asked.

 

"We need you to stay out of sight for awhile," Hannibal explained.  "Will and I need to right a few wrongs."  He held out the keys to the Rolls parked out front.  "Will from the present time is in the trunk.  Why don't you take him to Charleston?  He'll like it there."

 

"Righto," Past!Hannibal said, taking the keys and totally accepting this whole situation.  He stopped to give Will a lingering, hungry look on his way out the door.  "If your former self looks anything like you, I might just have to get a headstart on tapping that ass," he said with a seductive lick of his lips.

 

"Poor little past me isn't going to know what hit him," Will said, almost feeling sorry for his former self.

 

Hannibal glanced at a clock on the wall.  "We should get going," he said.  "Jack will be expecting us soon."

 

===

 

Jack Crawford entered his office to find Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham already seated in the chairs opposite his desk, apparently deep in conversation. They stopped speaking as soon as he entered the room, faces flushed from the heated make-out session they'd had while they waited for the BAU Director to arrive.  Luckily, he didn't seem to notice.

 

"Will. Hannibal."  Jack crossed the room and took a seat as his desk.  "I see that you've already met?"

 

"Yes," Hannibal said.  "We met on our way in."

 

Jack took a moment to notice Will's sport coat and styled hair. "Will, you're looking very...put together, this afternoon."  He was surprised to see the younger man not hiding behind the rims of his glasses and unkempt clothing, but moved on with the conversation anyways.  "You're both familiar with the case."

 

"How many confessions?" Hannibal asked.

 

"Twelve dozen, last time I checked," Jack answered. "None of them knew details, until this morning.  Then everyone knew details.  Freddie Lounds ran it on TattleCrime.com."

 

"Fucking Freddie Lounds," Will groaned, forgetting about having to deal with her bullshit all over again.

 

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, we're all aware of your distaste for Ms.Lounds and her method of journalism."

 

"Someone should glue her to a wheelchair and set her on fire," Will said.

 

"That's...surprisingly specific and violent," Jack said.

 

"I imagine what Will sees and learns touches everything else in his mind," Hannibal said.  "His values and decency are present, but overcome by a sexy, sexy desire to be a bad, bad boy.  No forts in the bone arena of his pants for the things he loves."

 

Will made eye contact with Hannibal and bit the air in front of him seductively.

 

Having no clue what just happened in front of him, Jack cleared his throat. "Um, yes, well," he cleared his throat again.  "Don't you have a lecture to give, Will?"

 

"Hmm?" Will's attention was pulled from the steamy gaze Hannibal was giving him.  "Oh, yeah.  Lecture.  I'll go do that."  He went to leave the room, turning to mouth at Hannibal "call me" with thumb and pinky extended to his ear and mouth before turning left and disappearing down the hall.

 

"Probably shouldn't poke him like that, Doctor," Jack said once he was alone in his office with Hannibal.

 

"Oh, I'd like to poke him. What he has is pure sex appeal," Hannibal observed.  "He can assume your point of view, or mine...and maybe some other points of view that scare and excite him.  Can you imagine a gift like that put to use in the bedroom?"

 

"I'd really rather not," Jack replied. He shuffled a couple papers on his desk.  "So about this cannibal in Minnesota..."

 

"I think I can help dear Will see his face."

 

===

 

The next day, Will was standing in a field in Minnesota looking at the grotesquely displayed body of Cassie Boyle.  He adjusted his sunglasses and yawned, considerably less disturbed by the horrific scene in front of him than anyone else present.

 

While the intention in coming back to the past had been to right some of the wrongs that had been done between them, Hannibal and Will had agreed that most things should play out as they had previously. This meant that many of the Chesapeake Ripper's victims would once again find themselves hunted and eaten by Hannibal Lecter and his guests, a fact that Will was at first reluctant to accept.  He had eventually agreed to the necessity though, either out of a sign of how much he'd changed in seven years or just plain convenience to this story.

 

"This wasn't the Minnesota Shrike," Will said, stifling another yawn. "Too, uh," he gestured vaguely at the scene in front of them, "impersonal and shit."

 

"He took her lungs," Brian Zeller called from where he was crouched next to the corpse. "I think she was still alive when he cut them out."

 

"You think this is a copy cat?" Jack addressed Will.

 

"Definitely," Will said. "The cannibal who killed Elise Nichols had a place to do it and no interest in making beautiful and perfect displays like this.  He has a daughter, same age as the other girls.  Probably looks just like them too."

 

"What about the Copy Cat?" Jack asked.

 

"He's very intelligent," Will said wistfully. "Tall.  Handsome.  Exotic.  Great with his hands.  Probably a tender lover."

 

Jack frowned. "You can tell all that just from seeing this?"

 

"Can't you?"

 

===

 

Will was showered and dressed and sitting in a chair by the door of his motel room the next morning when Hannibal knocked.  Jumping out of his chair so fast it toppled over backwards, Will flung open the door and threw his arms around the man on the other side.

 

Hannibal awkwardly attempted to hug him with his forearms, his hands full of breakfast.  "Well, I missed you last night too," he laughed.

 

They settled in at the small table to eat.

 

"Here's a question," Will said, shoveling giant forkfuls of egg and people sausage into his mouth. "How did you cook Cassie Boyle's lungs at home in Baltimore and prepare this meal, then manage to show up at my motel room in Minnesota so early in the morning?"

 

"The world may never know," Hannibal answered cryptically.

 

Will finished his breakfast and pushed it aside. "It's just us today," he said.  "This is when we find Garret Jacob Hobbs and first meet Abigail.  We need to be careful how we play this."

 

"We can't simply show up at the Hobbs' doorstep," Hannibal agreed.  "We need what little connection between the evidence and Garret Jacob Hobbs that you had to explain why we go there."

 

A half hour later, Will parked his rental car outside the trailer office of a construction site. He knocked on the flimsy door, showed his credentials, and explained the situation to the secretary.  She was barely finished dialing her boss's phone number when Will had opened a drawer of a filing cabinet and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

 

"Oh, look at this!" he said a little too loudly. "This _Garret Jacob Hobbs_ fellow left a phone number but no address on his resignation letter!  Sure looks suspicious!"

 

Hannibal sighed at Will's lack of subtlety.  "Better take a few more files with us just in case it turns out to be nothing," he said, randomly stuffing several other files into a box.

 

On the way back down the steps to the trailer, Hannibal faked almost tripping.  "Oh, clumsy me!" he exclaimed, letting the box of files flip completely upside down and fall out of his hands.

 

As Will and the secretary stooped to gather the papers before they blew away in the breeze, Hannibal rushed back in and gingerly picked up the telephone with a Kleenex.

 

"Crap, I forgot to look at the phone number this time," he said to himself. Racking his brain, he dialed several different phone numbers that seemed vaguely familiar from his past.  After calling three pizza delivery places in Baltimore and a dealer of fine Italian Crocs shoes, he heard Abigail's voice on the other end of the line.

 

"Hello?" she answered.

 

"Hello, Abigail!" Hannibal said, sounding a little too excited.  "Can I speak to your father, please?"

 

A moment passed before Garret Jacob Hobbs answered the phone. "Hello?"

 

"They know."

 

Once Hannibal joined him in the rental car, Will had a sudden realization.  "Wait a minute," he said, turning to the man in the passenger seat.  "Did you just call Garret Jacobs Hobbs and warn him that we were coming again?"

 

Hannibal looked sheepish.  "Maaaaaaaaaaaaybe?" his voice rose two octaves at the end of the word and ended on a squeak.

 

"Hannibal!" Will admonished.  "We're trying to _change_ what happened, not make everything happen the same way!"

 

"I couldn't help it, Will!" Hannibal whined.  "It's in my nature to want to fuck with people!"

 

Will sighed. "Well, we can still salvage this."  He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

 

Twenty minutes later, they parked in the Hobbs' driveway and got out of the car.  Exactly on time, the front door of the house opened and Louise Hobbs was shoved out onto the front steps.

 

Ignoring her hopelessly gushing wounds, Will stepped over her prone body and entered the house, gun drawn. Hannibal stood a moment over Louise Hobbs' body and watched her bleed out.  In a last desperate plea for help, her eyes flashed up to Hannibal's.

 

"Hello!" he said cheerfully as he watched the life leave her eyes.

 

Will stalked confidently through the house and straight to the kitchen. There he found Garret Jacob Hobbs standing on the far side of the island, whispering to his daughter as he held a knife to her throat.

 

"Garret Jacob Hobbs!" Will shouted. "FBI!"

 

Before Hobbs had a chance to move, Will pulled the trigger and one bullet went expertly through the man's forehead, killing him instantly. Hobbs crumpled straight to the floor, knife clattering harmlessly to the counter.

 

"Why couldn't I have done _that_ the first time?" Will rolled his eyes at himself.

 

Abigail, meanwhile, was hysterical. "You-you killed my dad!" she shouted.

 

"Abigail." Will put his gun into its holster and raised a hand towards her, taking a step forward.  "It's ok," he said gently.  "We're here to help."

 

"You killed my dad!" Abigail shouted again. She was trembling all over, hands clutching at herself, tears flowing down her face.  "Where's my mom?!"

 

Hannibal entered the room and saw the situation unfolding in front of him.

 

Will took several slow steps across the room towards the hysterical girl, hands in front of him, attempting to calm her down and sooth her. "It's ok, Abigail," he said.  "Everything will be ok. _Daddy's_ _here_."

 

Abigail's eyes widened and she backed further into the corner, trying to get away from what she perceived to be an advancing weirdo. She tripped over her dead father's outstretched leg and let out a loud cry.  She started blubbering nonsense, possibly going into some form of shock.

 

"Oh, for pete's sake," Hannibal sighed.  In one quick movement, he picked up the discarded knife on the counter and slit Abigail's throat.

 

"Hannibal!!!" Will screamed and followed Abigail to the floor, clutching at the blood gushing from the gaping wound on her neck.  "Stop trying to kill our surrogate daughter!!!"

 

"I'm sorry, Will," Hannibal looked legitimately apologetic.  "Habit."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making a goal for November to comment on every fic I read. Y'all should JOIN IN MY CRUSADE ~~WHO WILL BE STRONG AND STAND WITH ME~~ and let me know what you think. *nods* Unless you don't have anything nice to say, that is. In which case, keep it to yourself. ;)


	15. Chapter -XXXVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gross fungus-covered dead people, Abigail's still in a coma, and everyone thinks Will has issues. Murder Husbands from the future make their way through s01e02, Amuse-Bouche!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my thought was that going through the episodes would mean shorter chapters, making it easier to update on a schedule. Turns out, I was really freaking wrong! I think this is the longest chapter yet. Either I'm going to have to leave more unnecessary scenes out of the episodes or work towards just one update a week...I'm undecided at this point.

 

 

 

CHAPTER -XXXVIII

 

"I don't see why Hannibal couldn't have joined us today," Will said, pushing open the front door of Garret Jacob Hobbs' hunting cabin.  "I'm sure he'd have some valuable insight on the case."

 

"Dr.Lecter has patients and appointments back in Baltimore," Jack replied, following Will into the cabin.  "I don't want to keep him from his professional commitments just to follow us around Minnesota."

 

"I have students and classes," Will grumbled, heading straight for the stairs that led to the second floor. "Never seems to bother you to keep _me_ from _my_ professional commitments."

 

Jack stopped at the base of the stairs. "What we learn from Garret Jacob Hobbs will help us catch the _next_ Garret Jacob Hobbs."  He frowned at Will's back.  "Shouldn't we take a look down here first?" he asked.

 

"Nah," Will called as he disappeared around the corner at the top of the stairs.

 

Jack ascended the stairs and stopped at the top, finding himself in a room completely covered floor-to-ceiling with antlers. He considered the magnitude of the room, coldly disturbed.

 

"Could be a permanent installation in your Evil Minds museum," Will said, dripping with snark.

 

"You said that we won't find the other seven bodies because Hobbs was eating them," Jack said, moving further into the room.  "What if Hobbs wasn't eating alone?"  He gave Will a measured look before continuing, knowing that he and Hannibal were practically taking shifts in Abigail Hobbs' hospital room.  "Word is that Hobbs and his daughter spent a lot of time together.  She would be the ideal bait, wouldn't she?"

 

"Yeah, probably."

 

Jack was surprised Will would consider his theory so easily. "You think Abigail Hobbs might have helped her father abduct and murder all those girls?"

 

"It's entirely possible," Will said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the time. He could no longer feel any shock or disappointment at Abigail's actions, knowing full well what he himself was capable of.  "Come on," he said, heading back towards the stairs.  "I'm hungry, let's get lunch."

 

Jack turned to follow when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. He stooped and pulled a pair of tweezers out of his jacket pocket, picking up a long red hair.  "Hey, Will!" he called.  "Someone else was here."

 

"Fucking Freddie Lounds!" he heard Will angrily yell back up the stairs.

 

===

 

Will sighed as he walked into the lecture hall. He'd love nothing more than to skip teaching and spend the day hanging out with Hannibal, but Hannibal had insisted Will "keep up appearances" and try to live his former life mostly as he did before.

 

The students rose to their feet with an enthusiastic round of applause as Will entered the room. He smiled and waved congenially, signing a couple autographs on his way to the desk in the center of the room.  He dimmed the lights and jumped right into his lecture.

 

"This is how I caught Garret Jacob Hobbs," he said, bringing up a picture of Hobbs' resignation letter.  "Does anyone see the clue?  And before you brown-nosers raise your hands, stop.  There isn't a clue.  I'm just that good."

 

He changed the slide to a picture of Hobbs and his daughter, then quickly moved on to a picture of Cassie Boyle's body displayed in the field.  "The question now is how to stop those his story is going to inspire.  He's already got one admirer."  Will stood and looked at the slide with a admiration.  "A sexy, sexy admirer who obviously is very good at what he does," he added.

 

Once the lecture was over, the quickly exiting crowd of students parted to let Dr.Alana Bloom into the room.

 

Will looked dumbly at her a moment, remembering that he was going to have to deal with a lot of Alana's coddling in the months to come. "Hi," he said, for the sake of nothing else to say.

 

"How are you, Will?" Alana gave him a small smile.

 

"Great, you?" he replied, truthfully.

 

"Uh, good," Alana clearly didn't believe him. "I didn't want you to be ambushed..."

 

"Hi, Jack," Will said, looking over her shoulder.

 

"How was class?" Jack asked, joining them to stand next to the desk in the middle of the lecture hall.

 

"They applauded," Will said. "I'm glad they recognize excellence."

 

"So does the Review Board," Jack said. "You're up for a commendation and they ok-ed active return to the field."

 

Alana pushed her way between the two of them, demanding Will's eye contact. "Question is, do _you_ want to go back in the field?"

 

"I don't see why not," Will shrugged.

 

"Good," Jack nodded, obviously pleased with himself. "I told the Board I'm recommending a psych eval."

 

"Great!" Will said, grabbing his stuff off the desk and rushing past them to the door. "I'll go straight to Hannibal's now!"

 

===

 

Hannibal straightened the jacket of his suit and opened the door to his waiting room.  "Good evening," he said.  "Please come in."

 

Will pushed himself out of his seat in the and gave the other man a knowing look. "This whole role-playing thing didn't work so well last time, you know."

 

This time, however, it was quite successful. All that DND must have really paid off because an hour later, they were snuggled up together on a comfortable pile of their clothing in front of the fire place.  The only light in the room was the faintly glowing embers dying slowly in the logs.

 

"I don't recall our first session ending like this last time," Will said with a smirk.

 

"It did in _my_ mind," Hannibal said suggestively.  "I was banging you in my mind palace for a good hour after you left."

 

"You're so romantic," Will said with not a hint of sarcasm.

 

"My mind palace never could compare to the real thing though," Hannibal pulled Will closer to him.  "Lying beside you," he said quietly, "here in the dark.  Feeling your heart beat with mine."

 

"Softly, you whisper," Will wrapped an arm around Hannibal's chest and held him tight.  "You're so sincere, how could our love have been so blind?"

 

"We sailed on together," Hannibal said, gesturing vaguely in front of them, "we drifted apart."  He smiled at the man beside him.  "And here you are, by my side."

 

"So now I've come to you," Will said, "with open arms."

 

"Nothing to hide?" Hannibal asked.

 

"Believe what I say," Will nodded. "So here I am, with open arms.  Hoping you'll see what your love means to me."

 

Hannibal looked off into the distance, remembering all the years living in that house, wishing Will were there for company.  "Living without you," Hannibal sighed.  "Living alone.  This empty house seemed so cold."  He pressed his face to the top of Will's head.  "Wanting to hold you, wanting you near.  How much I wanted you home."

 

Hannibal pushed Will away to look him in the eye and said, "But now that you've come back, turned my night into day, I need you to stay."  He smiled as Will clung to him.  "So now I come to _you_ ," Hannibal continued, "with open arms."

 

"Nothing to hide?" Will asked cheekily.

 

"Believe what I say," Hannibal winked.  "Here I am, with open arms.  Hoping _you'll_ see what your love means to me."

 

"Open arms?" Will added, to round out the scene.

 

===

 

The next day, Beverly Katz found Will shooting bull's eye after bull's eye through the head and chest of the paper targets in the FBI Shooting Range.  The bullets tore through the center of the target, the bottom half completely falling away to the floor.

 

"I'm pretty sure firearm accuracy isn't a prerequisite for teaching," Beverly said, impressed.  "Remind me to have you around next time we go after a serial killer."

 

Will dropped his gun and spun to look her in the eye, smooshing her face between his hands. "Stay away from serial killers, Beverly," he said, pushing his face a little too much into her personal bubble.  "I mean it."

 

Beverly pulled herself out of Will's grasp gently, Will was obviously unstable.  "Yeah, ok," she said, a tad uneasy.  "Jack sent me down here to find out what you know about gardening."

 

===

 

Jack Crawford pushed the police tape stretched between the trees up out of the way to let Will duck under, following behind. "Lecter gave you the all clear," Jack said.  "Maybe therapy does work on you."

 

Will waved him off with a hand, stopping to look at the fungus-covered bodies lined up in front of them. "This is some fucked up shit," he said.

 

"Seven bodies," Jimmy Price said. "Various stages of decay.  All very well fertilized."  He sounded mildly impressed.

 

"They were buried alive with the intention of keeping them that way," Brian Zeller added. "At least for a little while."

 

"Let's clear the scene," Jack aided in moving this scene of the story along.

 

Will stood alone amidst the bodies, hands stuffed in his pockets. Obviously, he already knew what was going on here and who was to blame, but he still had to put on his little show for the others.  Keeping up appearances, as Hannibal said.

 

Will could hear Freddie Lounds asking questions of a police officer several feet behind him. He started contemplating already whether he would _actually_ kill her this time around.

 

A leaf blowing across the half-buried, fungus-covered man in front of him caught his attention. Will crouched to get a closer look.  What was it that had happened here the last time?  He remember that he'd hallucinated that one of these bodies was Garret Jacob Hobbs, come back to life. Hobbs had grabbed his arm, hadn't he?  Was that something that he'd imagined?  The encephalitis starting early?  Or-

 

A hand shot up from the ground and grabbed Will's forearm.

 

"JESUS CHRIST!" Will screamed, falling backwards onto his ass in the dirt. Instinctively, he grabbed a nearby fallen branch and wailed mercilessly on the not-as-dead-as-they'd-assumed man until he stopped moving.

 

"Will!" Jack shouted, rushing forward to help him to his feet. "Are you ok?!"

 

"Yeah, yeah," Will said, standing and brushing the dirt off of his knees. He pressed two fingers to his neck and checked his pulse, hoping to God he hadn't just peed himself in front of everyone.

 

Jimmy, Brian, and Beverly were all crowded around the battered figure in the ground.

 

"Well," Jimmy said, "if he _was_ still alive, he's not now."

 

"Way to go, Will," Beverly said.

 

"It doesn't matter," Will said, catching his breath. "He's a pharmacist."

 

"Hey, pharmacists are people too," Zeller protested.  "I happen to know quite a few very nice ones."

 

"No, not the dead guy, dumbass," Will said. "The killer.  He's a pharmacist.  Targets diabetics, switches out their meds."

 

"You can tell all just by...doing what you do?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

 

"My gift and my curse, Jack," Will said as he headed back to his car, having had enough of this messed up shit for one timeline.

 

===

 

"I can't believe _you_ , of all people, are telling me we can't kill someone," Will whispered.  He was sitting on the corner of Hannibal's desk, the older man looked up at him from his plush leather chair.

 

"Come now, Will," Hannibal kept his voice low as well.  "I didn't think that Miss Lounds fit your moral code anyways."

 

"Psh," Will scoffed quietly. "I think we can both agree that my 'moral code' is ambiguous at best."

 

"Either way," Hannibal leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs properly, "she still has a role to play in all of this."

 

Will ran a hand through his hair, supposing Hannibal was right.  "I suppose you're right."  He hopped down from his seat on the desk and circled around to the front, keeping his voice hushed.  "Well, we know that she's going to write an article about me no matter what we say, so we might as well give her something to write about."

 

Hannibal stood and crossed to his arm chair and took a seat.  "I agree, though an hour of unintelligible whispering might give her plenty to talk about."  He winked.

 

"Yeah, I'd rather not let that be a thing." Will took his seat opposite Hannibal and made himself comfortable.  He cleared his throat and spoke loudly and theatrically.  "You've got to help me doctor, I have so many problems!"

 

"Yes, Will," Hannibal replied, equally loud and theatrical.  "Please tell me about your problems!"

 

Forty-five minutes later, Will had slipped out of the office via a back exit. Hannibal opened the door to his waiting room and greeted Freddie Lounds.

 

"Good evening. Please come in," Hannibal smiled, " _Miss_ _Kimball_."

 

Once inside the office, Freddie gave a cursory look around the room before giving a friendly smile. "I've never seen a psychiatrist before-"

 

"Hand over the recording, Miss Lounds," Hannibal said, holding his hand out expectantly.

 

"Um, uh-" Freddie stammered. "Excuse me?"

 

"You recorded my session with Will Graham, I want you to delete it."

 

Freddie's cheeks turned red. "I'm so embarrassed."

 

Hannibal crossed the room and took a seat on the couch, patting the cushion next to him.  "Come.  Sit by me."

 

Freddie slowly and reluctantly moved to sit on the couch, leaving a good distance between Hannibal and herself. She placed her bag between them and pulled out her phone, deleting the recording and showing it to him.

 

Hannibal nodded approvingly and leaned back, crossing an ankle over his knee.  "Now if you want to know some gossip on Will Graham," he said slyly, "I can give you some gossip."

 

===

 

Later that evening, Jack Crawford sat at Hannibal Lecter's dinner table, admiring the beautifully plated dish that his host placed in front of him.

 

"Loin served with a Cumberland sauce of red fruits," Hannibal explained, placing a plate for himself and taking his seat.

 

"What kind of loin?" Jack asked.

 

"People."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Pork."

 

"Ahh," Jack nodded. "It's rare I get a home-cooked meal.  Hard as I tried not to, I married my mother."

 

Hannibal held up his hands in front of him.  "Whoa, Jack," he said.  "TMI, bro."  He waited for Jack to take his first couple of bites and hum appreciatively before adding, "Next time, bring your wife.  I'd love to eat you both for dinner."

 

"Pardon?"

 

"I'd love to have you both for dinner."

 

"Ahh," Jack nodded. He took another bite of the delicious food that was most certainly pork.  "I have to ask," he asked, "but do you always eat dinner at midnight?"

 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow.  "Is it that late?"

 

"At least," Jack said. "You said you had an appointment after Will's this evening and his appointment was at 7:30, then you had to have time to prepare this exquisite five course meal."

 

"Yes, but is this supposed to be the same evening?" Hannibal asked, curious.

 

"According to the script, it is," Jack pointed out.

 

"How curious."

 

Several bites later, Jack spoke again. "So, why do you think Will Graham went back to see you?"

 

"I'm sure he recognizes the necessity of his own support structure if he is to go on supporting you in the field," Hannibal made up some psychological bullshit.

 

"Well, I believe that a guy like Will Graham knows exactly what's going on inside his head, which is why he doesn't want anyone else up there."

 

"Are you not accustomed to broken ponies in your stable?"

 

"You think Will's a broken pony?"

 

"I think _you_ think Will is a broken pony."

 

"But do _you_ think Will is a broken pony?"

 

"That's not the question here. The question here is whether or not when it comes to broken ponies, you think you have one."

 

"I know a broken pony when I have one, I don't know that I have a broken pony."

 

"Have you ever lost a pony, Jack?"

 

"If you're asking if I've ever lost someone in the field...yes. Why?"

 

Hannibal frowned.  "I thought we were talking about horse races," he said.  "What's this about losing people in the field?"

 

"I've had my psych eval."

 

Not thrown off by Jack's apparent non-sequitur, Hannibal said, "Not by me.  You've already told me about marrying your mother, why stop there?"

 

Jack averted his eyes and looked at Hannibal coyly.  "Why, doctor.  Are you flirting with me?"

 

Hannibal felt a socked foot slide up the inside of his calf.  He gulped.

 

===

 

The caravan of FBI vehicles pulled into the pharmacy parking lot and a dozen agents spilled out onto the pavement. Many rushed towards the front door with weapons drawn, but Will Graham made a beeline to the side of the building, crowbar in hand.

 

"Will!" Jack called to him, deciding to follow instead of doing the obvious thing and going inside with the rest of the agents.

 

Will walked up to a seemingly random car and swung his crowbar, smashing the driver's side window. He reached in and popped the trunk.  Inside, they found the unconscious body of a woman buried in compost, an oxygen mask strapped to her face.

 

"How did you-" Jack starts, but is interrupted when Jimmy Price comes jogging out of the pharmacy.

 

" _The FBI isn't just hunting psychopaths_ ," Beverly read from a computer screen behind the pharmacy counter once they were all assembled, " _they're head-hunting them too. Will Graham, potential psychopath and self-professed Brony, has been recruited in hopes of using his demented, pony-loving mind to-_ " Beverly trailed off, looking uncomfortable.  "There's a lot of detail."

 

===

 

Back in Baltimore, Hannibal sat looking at the article on his tablet.  A photo of Will from the forest crime scene filled the screen, a _My Little Pony_ tshirt photoshopped onto his torso and a big anime vein popping from his forehead. Hannibal giggled.

 

===

 

Will woke up the next morning curled up on the couch in Abigail's hospital room, wondering vaguely what in the world kind of hospital has couches in the patients' rooms. He sat up, a blanket he hadn't fallen asleep with falling away from his shoulders.  Alana Bloom sat on the edge of Abigail's bed, reading quietly to her from a book.

 

"You're probably reading to a killer," Will said.

 

Alana stopped reading and looked at him. "Innocent until guilty and all that."  She closed the book and looked down at her hands awkwardly.  "I'm about to broach the subject of the 'Takes One to Know One' article."

 

Will groaned. "Oh, that.  No one can prove that I have _ever_ watched a single episode of _My Little Pony_."

 

"Did you really make out with a horse once?"

 

"No one can prove that either!"

 

Alana sat the book aside and gave Will a sympathetic look, clearly thinking he is very definitely unstable.

 

Will rolled his eyes and sighed. "Why don't you go back to reading?"

 

"Abigail Hobbs is a success for you," Alana stated. "Maybe after she wakes up, the two of you can watch the show together?"

 

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Will stood up, tossing the blanket to the side. "I'm going to get some coffee."

 

It just so happened that Alana decided to leave at that time as well and the whopping five minutes that Will was out of the room was when Eldon Stammets (our psycho pharmacist killer, if you recall) showed up to wheel Abigail out. Standing in the doorway of the now empty room, Will dropped his coffee on the floor as his phone rang in his pocket.  Knowing that it was Jack and why he was calling, Will ignored it and pulled his gun from its holster, rushing out of the room and down the hallway.

 

Will ran across several lobbies and down four flights of stairs, waving his gun like a madman and probably scaring a lot of orderlies and elderly patients half to death in the halls. He was trying to remember where it was that he'd encountered Stammets before when he turned a corner and spotted him.

 

Stammets turned to face him and Will leveled his pistol at the other man, aiming for a perfect head shot this time. Right as he pulled the trigger, however, four large hospital security guards tackled Will to the ground.  The bullet hit Stammets in the shoulder, knocking the gun from his hand and sending him sliding to the floor in shocked pain.

 

"We've got the crazy gunman!" one security guard shouted into his radio, pinning Will to the ground with a knee on his back.

 

===

 

"After I managed to convince them to check my wallet for my credentials, they finally realized that I wasn't the bad guy and grabbed Stammets," Will sighed. He was lounging on the couch in Hannibal's living room, feet resting in the other man's lap.

 

"A shame you didn't get a second chance to kill him," Hannibal lamented on Will's behalf.

 

"I didn't even get to have our poignant dialog." Will sighed again.  "I was really looking forward to killing him this time."

 

"At least you got the thrill of killing Garret Jacob Hobbs again," Hannibal offered.

 

Will grinned. "I liked killing Hobbs."

 

Hannibal had a flashback to the first time Will had admitted as much to him and shivered involuntarily.  "I just thought of when you first admitted as much to me during our session.  I don't think I'd ever been so turned on in my life."  He wiggled his eyebrows.

 

Will playfully kicked him in the side. "You're so weird," he said, smiling.

 

"At least I don't have a thing for cartoon horses."

 

Will glared at him. "You _owe_ me for that one."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you noticed that Will sighs a lot and Hannibal smiles a lot in this story? I've noticed and it annoys me.


	16. Chapter -XXXVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to s01e03, Potage! Or should we say...Frottage? *wiggles eyebrows* Abigail's awake and Will couldn't be happier. A fateful trip back to Minnesota and Abigail learns a HUGE secret about Hannibal (and Will).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok yeah, this one is even LONGER than the last one! Wtf, me?! I'm still trying to find the happy medium of not skipping too much in an episode...and realizing that y'all know what happens in the episodes, so I don't HAVE to include every single scene with Hannibal and Will. Hopefully you won't begrudge me these longer chapters while I find my groove.

 

 

 

CHAPTER -XXXVII

 

Will rolled out of bed and headed to the door to let the dogs out. He was finally getting readjusted to sleeping alone at night. Hannibal wanted Will to move in to his house, but Will insisted he couldn't abandon his dogs all night every night.

 

Will stood on the front steps as his dogs poured out into the yard. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes with one hand, unceremoniously scratching his junk with the other.

 

"Morning."

 

Will opened his eyes to see Alana Bloom standing several feet in front of him in the yard. He blinked at her.

 

"Sorry," she said. "Hybrid.  Good car for stalking."  Worried that Will would be overly concerned about her seeing him in a state of undress, she offered, "Would you like to go put some pants on?"

 

"No, I'm good." He stood with his legs apart and hands on hips, no concern whatsoever for the fact that he was standing there in his underwear.  "What can I do for you, Alana?"

 

"Abigail Hobbs woke up."

 

Will turned to go inside and get dressed. "I'll go inside and get dressed."

 

"How about we sit and have a cup of coffee," Alana took a few steps forward, making it clear that she wasn't actually asking a question.

 

Once seated inside, Alana gently blew on her mug as Will sipped on a juice box. On a table next to him, Will's phone rang almost constantly.

 

"Jack wants me to go see Abigail," Will stated.

 

"He does," Alana nodded. "And I think you should see her too.  Eventually."

 

"I want to see her now," Will perturbed.

 

Alana smiled at him, almost a bit sadly. It was obvious to her that Will was a very unstable individual, someone who needed coddled and handled with care at every moment.  "When you see Abigail," she said, "I want it to be on your terms.  I don't care what Jack wants."

 

"You know," Will started, "for not wanting to psychoanalyze me, you sure do it a lot."

 

Alana was taken aback. She thought her complete lack of subtlety on that matter had been far more subtle.  "I just think you should know where the line is before you go see Abigail Hobbs."  She hesitated before adding, "Dogs keep a promise a person can't."

 

"Buster lies to me all the time," Will said unfazed, jerking a thumb towards the small dog next to his feet.

 

"Let me reach out to Abigail in my own way," Alana insisted, determined to be in control of Will's actions despite constant claiming she wanted nothing to do with trying to control him.

 

===

 

"We need to rule out the possibility that Abigail Hobbs helped her father commit those murders," Jack said. He was seated at his desk in his office, Alana and Hannibal across from him.  "If she didn't help her father, she may know who did."

 

Hannibal turned to Alana.  "How was Abigail when you saw her?" he asked, desperate to rush in and give his little surrogate baby girl a big old daddy hug.

 

"Surprisingly practical," Alana admitted.

 

" _Suspiciously_ practice?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

 

"I think she's hiding something."

 

Jack leaned back in his chair. "I want Will Graham to talk to her."

 

"No, Jack," Alana said quickly. "Not yet."

 

"Dr.Bloom," Jack sighed. "You're not Will's psychiatrist.  Dr.Lecter is."

 

Hannibal grinned at her.  "That's right.  He's mine, not yours."  He leaned closer to her.  " _Mine_."

 

Realizing she was out-numbered on this one, Alana excused herself to go prepare for her next lecture. Jack and Hannibal headed over to the Academy to catch Will after his class ended.

 

"He wanted us to know he wasn't the Minnesota Shrike," Will's voice drifted out to the hallway as they turned into the lecture hall. "He is better than that."  Will looked up at the figures in the doorway and smiled almost imperceptibly at Hannibal.  "He is an intelligent killer.  He is a sadist.  And he is _sexy_."

 

"Giving a lecture on Hobb's Copy Cat," Jack whispered to Hannibal in unnecessary explanation.  "Need every mind on this we can get."

 

Will continued his lecture, addressing the students. "Before Garret Jacob Hobbs murdered his wife and attempted to do the same to his daughter, he receive an untraceable phone call.  I believe the as-yet unidentified caller was our Copy Cat killer."

 

Hannibal nudged Jack hard in the ribs with his elbow.  "Isn't he smart?!" he whispered, sounding almost proud.  "He's so smart!  Look at him, he's so cute and smart!"

 

Jack eyed Hannibal warily.

 

===

 

Finally given "permission" to go visit Abigail, Hannibal drove he and Will to the hospital in his fancy Bentley.

 

"Now remember," Hannibal cautioned Will, "Abigail doesn't know us yet as we know her.  I know you're excited to see her, but we mustn't reveal too much information or knowledge that we have no reason to know."

 

"I know, I know," Will knew. "Don't worry, I'll keep myself under control when I see her."

 

Inside the hospital, they stood in the doorway of Abigail's room. Freddie Lounds, seated next to the bed, blocked Abigail from view.  Will resisted the urge to grab the nearest sharp object and jam it in the back of her neck.

 

"A man named Will Graham," Freddie was saying to Abigail, "works for the FBI but isn't FBI. He catches incase men because he can think like them."  She turned slightly, acknowledging the presence of the men in the doorway, adding, "Because he is insane."

 

Will stepped into the room. "Hey Freddie... _fuck off_."  Addressing Abigail, he said, "I'm Special Agent Will Graham."

 

"By _Special Agent_ , he means not really an agent," Freddie said snidely, standing.  "Too unstable."

 

"I'll show you unstable!" Will grabbed a heavy, decorative vase from a nearby table and raised it over his head. Hannibal had to quickly grab his wrists and pry the vase from Will's fingers before he could smash it into the reporter's face.

 

"I must insist you leave the room," Hannibal said to Freddie, who amazingly took the hint and quickly fled to the hallway.

 

Composing himself, Will approached the bed. "Abigail, this is Dr.Lecter," he said.  "Do you remember us?"

 

"I remember you," Abigail gave him a level stare, recognition in her eyes. "You killed my dad."  She turned her gaze to Hannibal.  "I don't remember you though."

 

Hannibal and Will both visibly sighed with relief.

 

"You've been in bed for days," Hannibal said.  "Why don't we have a walk?"

 

They waited in the hall for Abigail to change into something other than her hospital gown and then gently held her arms as they walked outside. Once in the seclusion of the covered garden, Will suddenly turned and threw his arms around Abigail.

 

"I'm so happy you're alive!" he squeezed her so hard her eyes bulged. "I've missed you so much, my little pumpkin doodle!"

 

"Um, Will," Hannibal put a hand on Will's shoulder.

 

"Everything will be ok now," Will continued, talking in a baby voice. "Your daddies are here, we'll all be together soon!"

 

"Will!" Hannibal was more forceful this time, prying Will out from around Abigail.

 

She looked at him, somewhat alarmed. "She wasn't kidding when she said you were unstable."

 

"Will has an...interesting past," Hannibal attempted to vaguely explain.

 

"I'm going to be messed up too, aren't I?" Abigail asked, sitting down on a nearby bench. "I'm worried about nightmares."

 

"We'll help you with the nightmares," Hannibal consoled her.

 

"I used to have nightmares," Will said, sitting next to her.

 

"Do you have nightmares about killing my dad?"

 

"I used to."

 

Abigail looked a bit confused for a moment at Will's choice of words, but pressed on anyways. "Killing somebody," she said, "even if you have to do it...it feels that bad?"

 

"Oh, no. Not at all!"  Will shook his head.  "It's pretty awesome really.  You'll see."  When he said the last part, he nudged her and winked.

 

Abigail scooted a few inches further away from Will on the bench. "I want to go home," she said.  "But what are the chances that they'd let me, someone who just woke up from a coma like six hours ago, travel halfway across the country?"

 

Turns out, those chances are pretty good.

 

===

 

Later, in the parking lot, Hannibal and Will encountered Freddie Lounds leaning against the hood of the Bentley. Hannibal briefly considered letting Will go ahead and kill her for scuffing his paint job with her purse.

 

"Special Agent Graham," Freddie said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. "I never formally introduced myself, I'm Freddie Lounds."

 

Will threw his head back and groaned loudly. "Ughhhhhh, I knowww who you arrre," he said.  "Just gooooooo awayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."

 

Freddie smiled the fakest smile ever. "Let me apologize for my behavior in there," she said.  "It was sloppy and misguided, and hurtful."

 

Will stepped forward and totally infringed on her personal bubble. "Miss Lounds," he almost hissed, "it's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing you at least once an hour."

 

===

 

" _It's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living_ ," Jack read off the screen in front of him.

 

"Actually, that's not what I said," Will said from the other side of the desk. "I actually said that I think about killing _her_.  She misquoted me, surprise surprise."

 

Jack looked at Hannibal in disbelief.  "And you let him say that?"

 

Hannibal practically beamed.  "Will is perfectly capable of speaking for himself," he said, ruffling Will's hair like a child.

 

"I'm just happy the story wasn't about Abigail Hobbs," Alana offered from her seat on the other side of Will.

 

"Abigail Hobbs wants to go home," Jack stated. "Let's take Abigail Hobbs home."

 

"What is your thing with saying peoples' full names, Jack?" Will asked. "It's really kinda obnoxious."

 

===

 

Hannibal parked the rental car in the Hobbs' driveway.  Will sat in the passenger seat, practically bouncing with excitement.

 

"Isn't this fun?" Will asked, happily. "It's like our first family vacation together!"

 

Alana cleared her throat from the backseat. "Um, Will," she said, "I don't think that's the most appropriate thing to be saying right now."

 

Will looked at Hannibal, who gave a small shrug of agreement. Will sighed.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "I'm just so happy that you're alive!"  He turned in his seat and reached back to pinch Abigail's cheek.

 

The four of them went into the house, allowing Abigail to take her time walking from room to room and see what a good job the crime scene cleaners had done of making it look like nothing totally fucked up had happened there.

 

"Did you let me come home to find evidence?" Abigail asked later as they gathered in the living room, looking through boxes full of items the police had considered possible evidence.

 

"It was one of many considerations," Alana admitted, feeling honesty was the best course.

 

"Are we going to re-enact the crime?" Abigail asked, sounding almost a little too excited about the idea. "You be my mom," she said to Alana.  "You be my dad," she said to Will.

 

"OK!" Will gave an enthusiastic fist pump and scampered for the kitchen eagerly.

 

Abigail turned her steely gaze to Hannibal.  "And you be the man on the phone who later showed up and slit my throat," she said, knowingly.

 

Totally oblivious, Alana put a hand on Abigail's shoulder. "Abigail," she said, "your _father_ slit your throat, not the man on the phone."

 

"Oh, right," Abigail kept her eyes locked with Hannibal's.  "I forgot."

 

Will came back to the living room once he realized they weren't actually going to re-enact the crime. "We're not going to find any of those girls anyways," he said.  "Your dad honored every part of them."

 

"Abigail," Alana said, looking towards the front door. "There's someone here."

 

Abigail wandered out into the backyard with her friend Marissa. A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman that resembled the girl showed up at the front door.  Alana went to speak to her.

 

"I really must teach you a thing or two about subtlety," Hannibal said to Will once they were alone.

 

"You can't blame me," Will didn't try to deny his lack of subtlety. "You got to spend a lot more time with Abigail than I ever did, I'm just anxious to make up for lost time."

 

Hannibal glanced towards the back yard.  "She already knows that I was the one who called to warn her father, and who cut her throat."

 

"See then?" Will said. "All the more reason why we might as well just come clean with her now.  She'll accept us as her new daddies a lot faster and easier if we don't keep pretending we don't already know what she thinks we don't know but we actually do know but she doesn't know we know."

 

Hannibal pursed his lips in thought.  "Perhaps," he said.  "Give me some time to think of the best way for us to approach this."

 

Alana coming into the room with Marissa's mother interrupted any further conversation between the two men, the four adults making their way out into the backyard after the girls.

 

"Marissa!" Marissa's mother said sternly. "Come home!"

 

Marissa made a sound between a groan and a sigh. "Will you stop being _such_ a bitch?!" she exclaimed.

 

Hannibal leaned towards Will and whispered disdainfully.  "What a rude young lady," he said.  "You can see why I have to kill her."

 

Will raised an eyebrow. " _That's_ why you killed her?  Not as some part of your long thought out plan to get Abigail to kill Cassie Boyle's brother and eventually frame me for all of it?"

 

Hannibal _pft_ -ed.  "I never think that far ahead."

 

There was some talk about a boy who had just come out of the trees and had an altercation with the two girls, but we're just gonna skip past all that cause y'all probably know all that stuff.

 

===

 

Hannibal picked up his bag and turned off the lights of his hotel room.  He was about to open the door to the hall when there came a sharp knock.  Startled, he turned the lights back on and set down his bag before unlocking and opening the door.  Will stood in the hall, dressed in black pants and a slightly darker black turtleneck and gloves, hair slicked back.

 

"Will!" Hannibal was surprised to see him there.  "I'm surprised to see you here!  I thought we agreed to separate hotel rooms so Alana and Abigail don't get suspicious."

 

"I thought I'd go along with you tonight," Will said.

 

"You want to go with me to kill Marissa Schurr?"

 

"I figured if we aren't going to change the fates of the Ripper's victims," Will shrugged, "then I might as well go along and see the Ripper in action."

 

Hannibal smiled and gathered up his bag.

 

A half hour later, Hannibal and Will were crouched just beyond the tree line behind the Schurr residence. They could see Marissa moving around in a lit room on the second floor, faintly heard her call something downstairs to her parents, then turn off the light.  A few minutes later, her bedroom window opened and she climbed out, carefully making her way down a the trellis on the back of the house.

 

"Sneaking out of the house," Hannibal said, lips curling contemptuously.  "How very _rude_."

 

Waiting til Marissa had almost reached the tree line a few yards away from them, Hannibal rushed forward and socked her in the face hard with a gloved hand.  She crumpled unconsciously into his arms as he quickly pulled her back into the shadows of the trees.  Will watched with rapt attention from a crouched position nearby.

 

Marissa dumped carelessly into the trunk of the rental car, Hannibal drove them to Garret Jacob Hobbs' hunting cabin in the woods. Hannibal climbed out of the car and began to pull on a clear plastic murder suit that he'd retrieved from his bag in the backseat.

 

"Really?" Will rolled his eyes. "Do you pack one of those on every one of your trips, just in case?"

 

"Three actually," Hannibal said enthusiastically, zipping the plastic suit up to his neck snuggly.  "Never know when you might need a murder suit!"

 

Will continued to watch as merely a bystander while Hannibal pulled Marissa out of the trunk.  Giving her a look over, he frowned and began to remove her clothing.

 

Will grimaced. "Is that part really necessary?"

 

"Clothing detracts from the art of what I do," Hannibal said as if it weren't the most fucked up thing ever.  "And did you _see_ these god-awful furry boots she was wearing?"  He tossed the offensive articles in the trunk and slammed it shut.  "Yech!"

 

Will could practically hear his excitement buzzing in the air around him as he followed Hannibal up the stairs of the cabin to the antler room. Hannibal laid her body in the middle of the floor and rearranged a few pair of antlers on the wall to create a more pleasing aesthetic.  He turned to Will.  "Would you like to do the honors?"

 

Marissa Schurr groaned from her position on the floor, slowly regaining consciousness.

 

"I'm content to watch this time," Will said, marveling at his own lack of caring what was about to happen to this girl on the floor in front of him. Something about having already experienced the outcome and knowing what would happen made it conveniently easier for him to deal with.

 

"Suit yourself." Hannibal hoisted Marissa up and over his shoulder.

 

"Huh, wha-?" was all she blearily said before she was impaled on a wall of antlers. She let out a loud sound between a groan and a scream, quickly diminishing to a whimper before going silent altogether. Hannibal arranged her arms down by her sides and stepped back to survey his work.

 

"If I may," Will said, stepping forward. "I think maybe..."  He grabbed Marissa's wrists gently with his black gloved hands and splayed them straight out to her sides.

 

Hannibal nodded approvingly.  "I agree," he said.  "Much better."

 

They rode back to the hotel in silence. Despite Will's lack of participation in the murder, it felt like their first really successful and fulfilling kill as Murder Husbands, something they had both been anticipating for months.

 

Will had barely stepped into Hannibal's hotel room when the door was slammed shut and Will's back was shoved against it. Hannibal's mouth was on his face and neck, covering him in fierce and devouring kisses.

 

"I must apologize," Hannibal said between nips and sucks.  "It seems that being able to relive my kills with you by my side has a...certain effect on me.  It has given me a craving."

 

Will managed to turn them and backed towards the bed, pulling Hannibal with him.  His legs met the bed and he dropped down onto it, Hannibal standing over him still.  "And what exactly do you crave?" Will asked, attempting to sound seductive.

 

Hannibal ran his tongue along his upper lip.  "Sweat, my dear Will," he said.  He put his hands on either side of Will's shoulders and leaned over him.

 

"Sweat?" Will asked.

 

Hannibal nodded and moved to straddle Will's hips.  "The act of sex is like that of a Texas drought," he explained.  "I crave for you and I to do the sort of things that only Prince would sing about."

 

"Um..."

 

Hannibal grabbed Will's hands and put them on his belt.  "Put your hands down my pants," Hannibal ordered.  "I will bet that you will feel nuts."  He put his hands in front of his chest, balled into fists.  "Yes, I will be like Siskel."  He extended his right thumb.  "Yes, I will be like Ebert."  He extended his left thumb.  "And you will be receiving two thumbs up."  He wiggled both thumbs and his eyebrows.

 

Will began to understand. "You've had enough of two-hand touch?" he asked, pulling Hannibal's belt out of it's loops and tossing it aside.  "You want it rough?"  He laughed at Hannibal's frankness.  "You're out of bounds!"

 

"I want you smothered." Hannibal pulled Will's shirt off over his head.  "I want you covered like those unfortunate potatoes they called _hash browns_ that I had for breakfast this morning at the Waffle House."

 

Will grinned. "I'll make you come quicker than FedEx, never reaching apex."

 

Hannibal nipped at Will's bare chest.  "Like stock in a company such as Coca-Cola," he said, "you are inclined to make me rise an hour early just like Daylight Savings Time."

 

"Oh shit," Will said suddenly. "I forgot we have to reset our clocks tonight."

 

===

 

The next day, Hannibal and Will were more than fashionably late to meet with Alana and Abigail in the hotel lobby. After a long night of sweet sweet lovin', the two men had decided that their facade might be easier for everyone if they came clean about their relationship.

 

"There you two are!" Alana said when she spotted them stepping off of the elevator. She left Abigail seated on a couch and approached them, looking at Will, "I knocked on your door earlier but you didn't answer."

 

"Will was in my room," Hannibal said.

 

Alana furrowed her brow. "Why were you in Hannibal's room?" she asked.

 

Will cleared his throat and looked at the ground, willing his cheeks not to turn _too_ many shades of red.  "Yes, well," he dug a toe of his shoe into the carpet.  "Hannibal and I are, uh, together."

 

Alana's exasperated expression didn't change. "Yes, I can see that," she said.  "You're right here in front of me."

 

"No," Will shook his head. "I mean...we're _together_ together.  You know, like...seeing each other."

 

Alana still didn't get it. "I can see the both of you right now.  What do you mean?"

 

Will's mouth formed around the words awkwardly before finally saying, "We're _intimate_."

 

Alana stared at him, nonplussed.

 

Stepping to Will's rescue, Hannibal said, "What Will is trying to say is that he and I are in love."

 

"Love?" Alana looked confused.

 

"Yes, love," Will prayed for this conversation to be over.

 

"The kind you clean up with a mop and a bucket," Hannibal clarified.

 

Alana's eyes widened. "And that's why you were late this morning?"

 

Hannibal nodded.  "Just like the lost catacombs under the sands of Egypt," he said, "only God knows where we stuck it last night."

 

Alana stared at them both in turn silently for a moment before a wide grin spread on her face. She laughed loud and sudden.  "I must say," she said, "you two had me going there for a second.  I thought you were serious."

 

"We are-" Will started.

 

Alana continued to laugh as she headed towards the hotel entrance, beckoning Abigail to follow. "I didn't take either of you for the joking type," she said.  "That was a good one."

 

Deciding to drop the topic for now, they rode in relative silence to the Hobbs' hunting cabin.  The stillness in the car was only broken by Alana's occasional chuckling in the back seat.  Abigail sat staring out the window quietly, deep in thought.

 

They arrived at the cabin and went inside, Alana not-so-subtly interrogating Abigail about her father and any possible hunting friends he might have had. Of course, it didn't take long for them to discover Marissa Schurr's body mounted on the antlers upstairs and for Abigail to completely lose her shit.

 

Jack Crawford hopped in the teleporter that he must keep in the basement of the FBI Headquarters and showed up at the cabin right after the local police. He stood alone with Will in the antler room, inspecting Marissa's body.

 

"You say this is the Copy Cat?" Jack asked.

 

"Most definitely," Will said, trying very successfully to hide the bit of thrill he felt at seeing a crime scene he had been a part of creating.

 

"You don't think Abigail Hobbs did this?"

 

"Nope."

 

"What about this Nicholas Boyle kid?" Jack asked. "Revenge for his sister's death?"

 

"Nah."

 

As you often do with a traumatized girl who just discovered the gruesome murder of her best friend, Hannibal and Alana took Abigail back to her house where she had witnessed the gruesome murder of her mother and father. Then they left her to sit alone in the living room surrounded by evidence boxes.

 

Hannibal spotted a figure moving across the Hobbs' backyard towards the house.  As soon as he had Alana alone in one of the rooms, he wasted no time in knocking her head against a wall and letting her slump unconsciously to the floor.  He stood at the top of the stairs, straining his ears to hear for the telltale _SHLRP_ of a person's entrails hitting the floor.

 

Abigail was standing over Nicholas Boyle's dead body, blood coating her forearms and the knife in her hands. Finally noticing Hannibal in the doorway, she said, "He was going to kill me."

 

"Sure he was," Hannibal smiled lightly.  He moved forward and observed the body with admiration at Abigail's handiwork.  "They will see what you did and they will see you as an accessory to the crimes of your father."

 

"I wasn't," Abigail insisted.

 

"Sure you weren't," Hannibal winked.

 

===

 

The next evening, Hannibal sat at his desk in his office, delicately sketching a shockingly realistic likeness of Will sprawled seductively on the chaise lounge across the room.  Across the room, Will was sprawled seductively on the chaise lounge.

 

A creak of the floor on the upper level caused Hannibal to raise his pencil from paper.

 

"Hello, Abigail," he said.

 

"How did you know it was me?" she asked, stepping out into the light of the balcony.

 

"Fathers' intuition?" Will offered, not moving from his pose.

 

Hannibal rose to help Abigail descend the ladder into the room.

 

"I don't want to go to sleep," she said. She shot a glance over at Will and looked questioningly at Hannibal.

 

"Don't worry," he said, "he knows what I know."

 

Will put a thumb's up in the air, still not changing his pose.

 

"If it was self-defense," Abigail said, "then why not tell the truth?"

 

"People will say you were taking after your father," Hannibal replied.

 

"You're the one who called the house," Abigail finally said what she had known all along. "You're the one who cut my throat, not my dad.  You're a serial killer.  Like he was."

 

"Oh, he is _nothing_ like your father," Will called from his position across the room.

 

Abigail cleared her throat and looked from one man to the other. "You two are from the future," she said, "aren't you?"

 

Will finally sat up, surprised. "How did you-"

 

"How else could you know so much?" Abigail asked, joining the ranks of those buying into this whole scenario way too easily. "It was the only solution that made any sense to me."

 

"Don't worry, Abigail," Hannibal put his hands on her shoulders reassuringly.  "We'll keep your secret."

 

She looked at them both in turn. "And I'll keep yours."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might have contained the most explicit scene I've ever written (which is to say, not really explicit at all), purely because it was nothing but Bloodhound Gang lyrics.
> 
> That said, I'm amused that I'm totally ok with making Hannibal quote Disney and Bloodhound Gang songs, but I couldn't bring myself to make him call Will "baby".


	17. Chapter -XXXVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 4...Oof! There are children murdering their families, but Will doesn't seem to care because Hannibal keeps effing with his stuff while he's out of town. Alana continues to be deluded about both her chances with Hannibal and Will's mental well-being. Everyone else in this story continues to accept way too many anachronisms brought by Murder Husbands From The Future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! I'm striving towards updating at least once a week, but my husband stayed home from work Monday and...well...he doesn't need to know that I've returned to the world of writing fanfic. ;) I cut quite a bit of the "killer of the week" stuff out of this episode since I figure y'all know it and the procedural aspect of the show isn't really that important to my story. Hopefully I've included enough that you still feel a connection to the episode through dialog and events.

 

 

 

CHAPTER -XXXVI

 

"I can't believe stupid Will asked me to feed his stupid dogs," Hannibal mumbled to himself, fishing in his coat pocket for the key Will had given him before he left.  "If he'd just get _rid_ of the stupid dogs and move in with _me_ like I keep _asking_ , I wouldn't have to waste my Saturday driving alllllllll the way out to _BFE_ Virginia to _feed_ the stupid dogs."  As the door clicked unlocked and swung open, Hannibal added, "Or he could've taken me along on his little murder investigation and let me have some fun too.  I'm sure _Alana_ or someone would watch his stupid dogs."

 

Gathered in a semi-circle in front of him, those same stupid dogs eyed Hannibal warily, not sure what to make of their stupid visitor.

 

Hannibal gave them all an evil eye in turn.  "None of you will ever be _half_ the dog Archimedes will be."

 

Buster inched forward and yipped.

 

"Will could have taken me along, but nooooooo," Hannibal explained to the dogs, pulling a large baggy out of his coat pocket.  "Daddy gets to go out and have fun with his work friends while Mommy stays home and takes care of the kids!"

 

After feeding the dogs the people sausage he'd brought, Hannibal began to warm up to the dogs about as much as the dogs began to warm up to him. Which wasn't a lot, really.  At least enough not to attempt to tear his face off.

 

Standing in the center of the living room, surveying his surroundings, Hannibal clapped his hands together.  "Now, what can I fuck with first?"

 

===

 

Later that day, Hannibal sat at the desk in his downtown Baltimore office.  He didn't have any patients on Saturdays, but if he was going to have to drive alllllllll the way back out to Wolf Trap to let Will's stupid dogs out _again_ (Seriously, why couldn't the dude have a herd of cats instead?), Hannibal's office was at _least_ ten minutes closer to Virginia than his home.

 

He was startled from the nudey drawing he was making of Will by a knock on the door.

 

"Hi," Alana Bloom said once Hannibal had opened the door to reveal her standing in his waiting room.

 

Hannibal sighed.  "Sorry, we don't want any," he said, attempting to shut the door in her face.

 

Alana stuck her foot out and caught the door before it could close completely. Putting her hands on it and pushing it back open against the force of Hannibal's shoulder trying to push it shut, she asked, "Do you have a beer?"

 

Hannibal sighed again and relented.  "Yes, why?"

 

Alana pushed her way past him into the office, "Let's have a drink."

 

Having retrieved the beverages from the kitchen, Hannibal handed Alana a glass of people beer and sat down on the chaise lounge with his wine glass, a reasonable distance between them.  Alana subtly scooted closer to him.  He, not so subtly, scooted further away.

 

"It's hard to see such a bright, young girl like Abigail go so adrift," Alana explained the vague reason for her visit.

 

"Abigail should be set free to live her life, not spending weeks in an ivory tower, immersed in tragedy," Hannibal said.

 

"She can't be abandoned to face her life alone," Alana said, shocked at the supposed suggestion.

 

"Will and I could be her fathers," Hannibal took a sip of his wine.  "We were both there when she experienced tragedy, we could help her."

 

"Fathers?" Alana raised an eyebrow. "Still holding onto that joke about you and Will being a couple?"  She laughed.  "You should work on your humor, Dr.Lecter.  No one would buy that you would be in a relationship with such a damaged individual."  She looked sad for a moment.  "Will is a very broken man," she said.  Raising her eyes to Hannibal's, she placed a hand high on his thigh.  "You, however, are _all_ that is man."  She attempted to lick her lips seductively, but the effect was anything but sexy.

 

Hannibal winced and chugged the rest of his wine.

 

===

 

"You jumped to the idea that the missing boy killed his family pretty quickly, Will," Jack said. He was standing in the lab at the FBI with Will and the science team, recently having returned from the ill-fated Turner household in Maine.  "Care to explain how you reached that conclusion?"

 

Will gestured vaguely around. "Uh...evidence?" he asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  When no one else seemed to understand, he gave in to explanation.  "Bullets fired low to high...like from someone short?  Mother shot last, look of forgiveness...like for a child?"  He gestured again.  "Seems pretty obvious to me."

 

"It's a pretty far leap to think that a twelve year old boy could do all of this," Brian Zeller looked across to the line of bodies on tables.

 

"He could with proper training," Will said. "An adult to whisper in his ear and tell him to pull the trigger."

 

"So now it's an adult and the boy?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

 

"And probably at least three other boys," Will offered without explanation.

 

The awed silence at Will's amazing skills of empathic deduction that followed was broken by Beverly Katz.

 

"Ok, I'm just going to ask it," she started, "since no one else will." She turned a hard gaze to Will.  "What in the world happened to your face?!" she asked.

 

"Huh?" Will hadn't expected the question.

 

"The scars," Jimmy Price pointed at Will's forehead and cheek. "You didn't used to have those, did you?"

 

Unbelievably, it hadn't even dawned on Will that the sudden appearance of some very noticeable facial scars might raise a few eyebrows amongst his small social circle. He quickly searched his brain for a decent explanation or a way to deflect the question.  Denial always seems to work, right?

 

"What scars?" he asked, eyes darting side to side in a failed attempt to look innocent.

 

"On your face!" Beverly pointed at his forehead.  "The long one on your forehead and that nasty looking one on your cheek."

 

" _You're_ nasty looking!" Will retorted, apparently reverting back to his eight year old self.

 

"Come on, Will," Jack said, somewhat fatherly. "It's a simple question.  Where did the scars come from all the sudden?"

 

Resisting the impulse to respond with "your momma," Will decided to feign hurt feelings. "They've always been there!" he exclaimed.  "I can't believe you never noticed until now!"  He threw his arm across his eyes in theatrical sadness.  "My closest friends and none of you ever even _looked_ at me before now!"  He let out a loud and super fake-sounding sob and ran out of the room.

 

"That boy has issues," Beverly said, shaking her head once he'd left.

 

===

 

"Hannibal!" Will called, barging into the psychiatrist's office like he owned the place.  "Hannibal, where are you?!"

 

Hannibal slinked slowly out of the kitchen.  "Yessssssssss?" he asked innocently, the barely contained grin on his face giving him away.

 

Will stopped in the middle of the room and put his hands on his hips, glaring at him. "This is the last time I ask you to take care of my dogs while I'm gone."

 

Hannibal coughed lightly into his hand and walked fully into the room.  "Why, Will," he said, "whatever seems to be the problem?"

 

"You covered my entire yard in toilet paper!" Will exclaimed.

 

"It was probably just some naughty neighborhood children," Hannibal replied, knowing full well that Will had no neighbors.

 

"You replaced all the pictures in my house with pictures of Nicholas Cage!"

 

"He's a fine actor," Hannibal offered.

 

"You dyed my toothpaste!" Will bared his teeth, his whole mouth coated in green dye.

 

"Perhaps you merely purchased a bad brand?"

 

"You filled my deodorant with a stick of butter!" Will raised his arms over his head.  "I can't get the grease out of my armpit hair!"

 

"Perhaps your deodorant had reached its expiration date?"

 

"Deodorant doesn't expire!" Will rubbed his face with a hand.  "I tried to get a drink of orange juice this morning and you'd filled the pitcher with the cheese dust from Kraft Macaroni & Cheese and water!"

 

At that, Hannibal couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Will having discovered that particular prank.  Forcing himself to stop laughing, he managed to ask through his teeth, "What makes you think that I did _any_ of these things, Will?  Honestly."

 

"You spray painted _Hanni Was Here_ on my underwear drawer!"

 

"Circumstantial at best," Hannibal shrugged.  "Wouldn't hold up in court."

 

Will moved close to the other man, peering right into his eyes. "You duct taped two of my dogs together."

 

"Now that," Hannibal said with a grin, "I will admit to."

 

"Well then I hope your laughter keeps you warm tonight when you're in your big comfy bed all alone!" Will said, heading towards the front door of the house. He turned and pointed at Hannibal.  "I want you to think about what you've done, mister!"

 

After he'd left, Hannibal stood in his office with his hands in his pockets.  He rocked on the balls of his feet a couple times and smiled, returning to the kitchen.  "Totally worth it," he said.

 

===

 

Jack Crawford was at Hannibal's home for another midnight dinner.  He hummed in appreciation at the delicious aroma of the food being placed in front of him.  "What am I about to put in my mouth?" he asked, cutting a piece of sausage and holding it in front of his lips.

 

"A rabbi," Hannibal answered, taking his seat.

 

"Pardon?" Jack asked.

 

"Rabbit," Hannibal emphasized.

 

A good enough answer for Jack, he proceeded to shovel the yummy food into his mouth. "Our friend Will seemed haunted today," he said, between swallows.  "More so than usual."

 

Hannibal smiled to himself.  "We don't know what nightmares lie coiled beneath Will's pillow," he said, thinking of how much he would love to be a fly on the wall that night when Will discovered the fake snake Hannibal had hidden under his pillow.

 

"Children killing children," Jack referred to their current case and assuming that was the reason why Will seemed on edge earlier at the lab. "Not an unfamiliar notion for Will.  The nightmare under his pillow may be that he was wrong about Abigail Hobbs."

 

"Oh, I don't think that's it," Hannibal smirked.  He always enjoyed being one of the few people who ever really knew what was going on, but this whole time travel thing definitely took the cake.

 

===

 

Will stood in his lecture hall, eyes trained on the floor in front of him as he spoke to the class. He ran his tongue across his teeth between sentences, overly cautious of showing his bright green teeth.

 

His lecture was interrupted by the entrance of Jack Crawford.

 

"Class dismissed!" Jack bellowed. "Everybody out!"  Once the room had cleared, Jack approached Will.  "We found a match for a set of prints pulled from the Turner house.  We're ready when you are, and you're ready now.  Let's go."

 

Will hesitated. "Wait," he said, "I need to find someone to watch my dogs while I'm gone."

 

"No time," Jack said, attempting to pull Will by the arm. "Just have Dr.Lecter do it like last time."

 

Will turned and opened his briefcase. Several dozen pictures of Nicholas Cage popped out and flowed across the desk.  He looked at Jack expectantly.

 

"He's a fine actor," Jack shrugged. "I can see why you'd go for him."

 

"I didn't put them there!" Will exclaimed.

 

Jack finally noticed Will's green teeth and gave him a concerned look. "Are you on drugs, Will?" he asked, quietly.

 

"No, I'm not on drugs!" Will shrieked.

 

Ignoring any worry he may have about Will's apparently drug use, Jack whisked Will and the science team off to the Frist household. There, Will spouted some more details about the case, trying carefully and failing to not divulge _too_ much information that anyone would get suspicious about him knowing.  He was more concerned with the welfare of his dogs and his belongings, left in the care of Hannibal once again.

 

His worry was, of course, not unfounded.

 

Once back in Baltimore, he barged into Hannibal's office, tossing his jacket and bag unceremoniously on the chaise lounge and stopping to leer at the smirking psychiatrist.  Partially exposed in Will's bag was a small package, wrapped in colorful paper with a delicate bow.

 

"Has Christmas come early?" Hannibal asked, quirking an eyebrow towards the package.  "Or late?"

 

Will continued to glare at him. "I got you a souvenir on the trip.  Now I'm thinking better of it."

 

The other man faked an innocent look. "Are you angry with me, Will?"

 

"You Saran Wrapped everything in my house!" Will exclaimed, arms flailing. "Including the house itself!  It took me 20 minutes to cut a hole to the front door and 30 minutes to unwrap the toilet so I could pee!"

 

Hannibal leaned back against his desk and crossed his feet at the ankles.  "Yes, but I didn't touch your dogs this time."  He nodded lightly, "You're welcome."

 

Will seethed. Forcing himself to calm down, he let out a long breath.  "You're lucky I love you," he said finally.  Raising a warning finger, he added, "But I'm still finding a dog sitter for next time I have to leave town."

 

Hannibal crossed the room and put his hands on Will's upper arms, smiling fondly at him.  "You know," he began, "you wouldn't have to worry about any of this if you would just move in to my home like I ask."

 

Will leaned into him, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder. "Don't think it isn't tempting."

 

"We could bring Abigail from the hospital," Hannibal continued.  "The three of us staying together, like the proper family we should always have been."

 

"I'll think about it."

 

Pulling out of Will's embrace, Hannibal looked down at the brightly wrapped souvenir peeking out of the bag on the chair.  "Now, about this gift," he said.  "Is it naughty?  Please tell me it's naughty."

 

===

 

The next day, Hannibal was visiting Abigail at the psychiatric hospital.

 

"I don't think I'm allowed to leave," Abigail was arguing. "After I climbed the fence."

 

"I've made arrangements," Hannibal replied.  "You could say...I'm one of your guardians."  He held out Abigail's coat expectantly.

 

"Where are we going?" she asked.

 

"Home," he answered. "My home.  I thought you might enjoy it if I cooked for you.  Will will be there as well."

 

"My other guardian?" Abigail raised an eyebrow, accepting the offered coat and slipping it on. "My two time-traveling dads?" she added, amused.

 

"Yes, but I wouldn't go around telling everyone that," Hannibal winked.  "You might have to stay here even longer."

 

"I just have to get used to lying then."

 

"You must only lie about two things," Hannibal pointed out.  "And when you're around me and Will, you don't have to lie about anything."

 

"In my dreams," Abigail said suddenly, "I wonder how I'd live with myself, knowing that I killed Nicholas Boyle."

 

"And when you're awake?"

 

"When I'm awake, I know I can live with myself," Abigail frowned. "I know I'll just get used to what I did."

 

Hannibal wrapped his arms around her and clutched her to his chest.  "That's my little girl!" he said in a cutesy voice, filled with paternal pride.

 

===

 

Later, in Hannibal's kitchen, Abigail stood watching Hannibal prepare dinner.  Will sat in a stool at the counter nearby, swinging his legs happily.

 

"Have you thought of where you might want to go to school?" he asked, feeling fatherly and wanting the best for his new surrogate daughter.

 

"My dad killed girls at all the schools I applied to," Abigail replied. "I want to work for the FBI."

 

Hannibal and Will positively beamed. Look at her, taking over a family business!

 

"They wouldn't let me though, would they?" Abigail asked. "Because of what my dad did?"

 

"They let Will here work for the FBI," Hannibal gestured at the other man with his knife, "and everyone _knows_ he could snap and kill them all in a moment."  He looked at Will thoughtfully.  "And why don't you?" he asked.  "It would be great fun and _very_ therapeutic."

 

Will was saved from having to contemplate a tempting rampage through the FBI Headquarters by the sound of the tea, ready to serve.

 

"I asked Will to prepare some tea for us," Hannibal explained.  "A nice cup of tea prepares the palate before dinner," he added some absolute bullshit just to sound smart.

 

The three took long drinks from their cups and made unpleasant faces.

 

"Will," Hannibal said slowly, "this doesn't taste like chamomile.  What did you get?"

 

Will slapped the counter in front of him. "Chamomile!" he exclaimed.  "That's what you said!  I couldn't remember which one you told me to get out of the pantry, so I just grabbed one that sounded good."

 

"Which was?" Hannibal raised his eyebrow questioningly.

 

"I dunno," Will shrugged. "Something that started with P-S...I dunno.  Something."

 

Five minutes later, all three of them were trippin' balls.

 

"I don't think Dr.Bloom would say this was ok," Abigail giggled.

 

"Dr.Bloom can _suck a diiick_ ," Hannibal retorted, lowering his voice a couple octaves for the last few words and taking another drink from his tea.

 

"But not yours!" Will was quick to add, shaking his head emphatically.

 

"Oh, Lord no!" Hannibal visibly shuddered.  "Though I think she wants to."

 

Will made a super duper serious face. "I'll kill her if she tries anything."

 

"Oh, shit," Hannibal continued to be completely out of character.  "That is _so hott_!"

 

Hannibal and Will lunged at each other in the middle of the kitchen and began to make out in the messiest of ways.

 

"I don't feel good," Abigail murmured. Noticing the eggs sizzling in a pan on the stove, she asked, "You're making breakfast for dinner?"

 

Reminded that he'd been in the middle of preparing dinner, Hannibal rushed back to the stove to tend to the eggs and sausage.  "This was the last meal you had with your parents," he explained, "and now it's the first meal you're having with your new ones."

 

"CANDYBARS!" Will shouted, inappropriately.

 

Will and Abigail were sent off to set the dining room table when there was a knock at the front door. Hannibal wandered slowly to it and fumbled with the lock.  The door opened to reveal Alana Bloom standing on the doorstep.  "May I...hellllllllllllp you?" Hannibal slurred.

 

Alana pushed her way into the house and, noticing the smell of cooking food, headed straight for the kitchen. "As someone who makes such a big deal about common courtesy," she began her rant, "I'm a little taken aback - slash, a lot taken aback - that you would check _my_ patient out of the hospital without permission!  Rude, Hannibal!  Shockingly rude!"

 

"Says the woman who just barged into my home uninvited," Hannibal muttered under his breath, following her into the kitchen.  "And not for the first time."

 

Alana whirled to face him. "I know you're desperate for my attention, Hannibal, but there are better ways to get it than this.  You shouldn't be involving Abigail, she's a very sick girl."

 

Hannibal picked up three plates of sausage and eggs and carried them to the dining room, Alana hot on his heels, her nagging falling on the proverbial deaf ears.

 

"Hi, Dr.Bloom," Abigail said cheerfully from the table. She was seated across from Will and picked up her fork and knife excitedly when her plate of food was placed in front of her. Hannibal placed the other two plates on the table and took his seat.  "Are you hungry?" Abigail asked, looking at Alana.  "Hannibal made breakfast for dinner."

 

Never one to turn down food, Alana said, "I could eat." She grabbed an empty chair at the table and noisily dragged it around to sit awkwardly in the small space between Hannibal and Will.  Will began to cut his sausage, excessively moving his arm so that his elbow jabbed and jostle Alana.

 

Hannibal noticed Abigail gazing at them happily.  "What is it?" he asked of her.  "What do you see?"

 

Abigail looked between Hannibal and Will and smiled wide. "I see family," she said, only slightly hallucinating.  Looking at Alana, she added, "And the crazy lady from down the street."

 

Will and Hannibal leaned over and high-fived loudly in front of Alana's face.

 

===

 

Somewhere in North Carolina, Jack Crawford gripped the steering wheel of his SUV angrily.  He'd been calling Will all day, trying to find out his whereabouts and any explanation as to why Will hadn't shown up to help close the case of the family murders.  "I swear," Jack grumbled to himself, "once I find him, I'll kill him!"

 

The more compassionate side of Jack cut in then and reminded him that Will was a very broken individual and it's very likely that he was becoming something other than himself. Jack sighed. "I sure hope he's ok," he amended his previous statement.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I should probably say that any less-than-favorable lights that I shine on any characters is mostly just for my own fun and to add my own personal spin on the events of the show. It's not a reflection of my feelings about the character and/or actor. For example, nothing against Alana at all, but the idea of her having an unhealthy obsessive unrequited love of Hannibal and being convinced that Will has major problems despite him not showing any...the thought makes me giggle, so that's why I write her that way. I'm looking forward to the "Hannibal and Alana dating" section of season 2 cause you KNOW that future!Hannibal of my story won't go for that at all.


	18. Chapter -XXXV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While a crazy dying man turns people into angels, Hannibal goes out of his way to avoid Jack's wife and continues to hound Will about moving in. Everyone still thinks Will is crazy, but he's definitely not as unstable as his past!self, held captive at the house in South Carolina. That's right, we're going to check in with past!Hannibal and past!Will in this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't originally planned on writing much about past!Hannibal and past!Will's lives in South Carolina, but it seemed the thing to do. Please let me know if it's confusing at all what's going on...I think I made it fairly clear without having to actually write "past!" before their names every time just to be on the safe side.

 

 

 

CHAPTER -XXXV

 

Hannibal placed a plate of artfully prepared foie gras in front of Jack Crawford and his wife, the two of them seated at Hannibal's table for yet another midnight meal.

 

"Would I be a horrible guest if I skipped this course?" Bella asked, eyeing the foie gras in front of her distastefully.

 

"Yes," Hannibal said, taking his seat.  "Eat up, bitch."

 

"Excuse me?" Bella looked at him, surprised at what she'd heard.

 

"By all means," Hannibal smiled, "don't feel obligated to eat this gorgeous meal that I spent all day preparing for you.  You, who have been invited into my home as a guest.  That's not rude at all."

 

"It's too cruel," Bella explained her aversion to the dish.

 

Hannibal slapped his cloth napkin down on the table.  "You know what else is cruel?" he asked, eyes brimming with tears.  "Not appreciating all of my hard work!"  He let out a sob and shoved his plate to the side, folding his arms on the table in front of him and burying his face in the crook of his elbow.

 

"Phyllis," Jack chided, a reproachful look directed at his wife.

 

"Jackelyn," Bella met his gaze with no sign of remorse.

 

Hannibal got over his hissy fit and stood up suddenly.  "I forgot to pour the wine."  He grabbed a bottle from the sideboard and moved to fill Bella's glass.  Leaning over and invading her personal space like crazy, he inhaled deeply and loudly.  "Your perfume is exquisite," he said, inhaling again.  "Similar to the uncontrolled division of abnormal cells in a person's body."

 

Bella's eyes widened. "You've got some nose, Doctor," she said slowly.

 

"I first noticed my keen sense of smell when I was a young man," Hannibal explained.  "I could smell cancer in a person from a mile away."  He gave Jack a pointed look.

 

"Makes an effective parlor trick," Jack nodded in admiration.

 

Hannibal stood behind Bella, eyes locked with Jack's.  He inclined his head in a gesture towards Bella.  Jack smiled at him. Hannibal jerked his elbow towards her twice.  Jack smiled and nodded again, oblivious. Hannibal sat the bottle of wine down and pointed at Bella with both hands in a big obvious gesture.  Jack chuckled and commented on the excellent wine.

 

Hannibal sighed and gave up, returning to his seat.

 

===

 

Even the bright light of the moon hardly managed to light the dark road that twisted through the trees. A man, clad only in his boxers and a thin t-shirt, barefoot and dirty, walked alone along the yellow strip of paint on the road.

 

Will Graham was asleep, but not asleep. He was cold and his feet ached, but he didn't notice.  He was unaware of anything but the vague feeling of a presence lurking behind him.  It was hard to resist the urge to turn around and see what followed.

 

Twin beams of light crested the hill of the road up ahead and came towards him. Will raised his arm in front of his eyes, shielding them from the light.  He stopped walking as an expensive Bentley pulled up beside him, the driver's window rolled down.

 

"Will," Hannibal sighed with relief from the driver's seat.  "What are you doing?"

 

"Hannibal?" Will started to come back to reality.  "Where am I?"

 

Hannibal climbed out of the car and gently placed a warm blanket around Will's shoulders.  "Oh, my poor little encephalitic puppy," he said in a cutesy voice, patting Will's head like a dog.  "Looks like I'm going to have to start locking you in the house at night!"

 

Will groaned but let himself be ushered into the passenger door of the Bentley and strapped into his seat. Hannibal returned to the driver's seat and made a u-turn in the middle of the road, heading back the three miles to their large white house in South Carolina.  He wondered if he should give future!Hannibal a call and inquire if Will had gotten sick in their timeline as well, but quickly decided that it didn't matter.  One should never question the chance for a little fun.

 

===

 

Absurdly early the next morning, future!Will stood in Hannibal's kitchen in Baltimore, barely covering his mouth as he yawned enormously.

 

"I'm sorry it's so early," future!Hannibal said, pouring himself a dainty cup of coffee from an obnoxiously expensive coffee maker.

 

"You should be," Will said, stifling another yawn. "But you sounded upset, so here I am."

 

Hannibal leaned back against the counter and sipped his coffee slowly.  Setting the cup down, he let out a long sigh.  "I invited the Crawfords over for dinner last night, as you know, and Bella was just _insufferable_ the whole time!" Hannibal whined.  "First, she was just altogether _rude_ , despite being a guest in my home.  Then she had the audacity to insult my foie gras! _My foie gras_!  I have _literally_ won competitions with my foie gras and she refused to eat it!  Because it's cruel to geese!  Like, who gives a fuck about _geese_?!"

 

"Did you bother to mention that your foie gras is made from humans, not animals?" Will asked.

 

Hannibal sighed for like the fifth time in this chapter already.  "You know, I really thought about it," he said truthfully, "but I knew that if I did, then I'd have to kill her and probably Jack too and that would just be a _mess_ and I knew that we said we should try not to change anything _too_ major this time around and I wasn't sure how you'd feel about me killing Jack so early in the timeline and Bella is just a _very_ intimidating woman and she's mean and hurtful and-"

 

"Hannibal, Hannibal," Will stepped forward and laid a hand on the other man's arm, interrupting his rambling.  "You're rambling."

 

"I'm sorry, Will," Hannibal said sadly.  "It's just that I go through all this trouble to prepare these lavish and beautifully delicious meals for people that I invite into my home as guests and _no one_ ever seems to appreciate it!  I let Jack bring his wife to dinner out of courtesy to a friend and here she comes waltzing in, stinking up my house with all her _cancer_ , and then she doesn't even have the decency to appreciate my food." Hannibal crossed his arms across his chest.  "It makes me remember exactly why I prefer to eat people, rather than to socialize with them."

 

Will honestly had no idea how to respond to that. However, as someone who had always had his own issues with socializing and had somewhat recently gotten a taste for people meat himself, he could definitely understand.  "It'll be all right, Hannibal," was all he offered with a lame pat on the arm.

 

Hannibal wrapped his arms around the love of his life.  "Oh, thank you, Will," he said.  "You always know exactly what to say to cheer me up."

 

===

 

A little more than 24 hours later, Will and Hannibal were pulling into the parking lot of a hotel in New Jersey, weaving between the emergency vehicles to find a place to park.

 

"Jack's going to wonder why you're here," Will said as he got out of the car. "He didn't ask for you to consult on this case."

 

"I'll tell him you told me where you were going and I insisted on coming along out of professional curiosity," Hannibal said, following Will towards the building.  "And neglect to mention that I'm avoiding the fact that his wife is hounding me for an appointment."

 

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked Hannibal as soon as he and Will met up with him.

 

"Your wife scares me!" Hannibal blurted out.

 

Will stepped between them. "I told Hannibal where I was going, he asked to come along out of professional curiosity."

 

"All right." Jack led them down a hall towards an open door where several FBI agents were gathered.  "I need you two to prepare yourselves for this one," he said.

 

"We're prepared," Will responded.

 

"Prepare yourself some more," Jack insisted. "It's soup in there."  He stopped right outside the door and turned to face them one last time before they entered.  "Hold onto your butts."

 

They turned into the room and Hannibal let out a noise somewhere between a cough and a gag at the scene before them.  "Oh, that's nasty!" he said, gesturing at the two naked people kneeling before the bed, the skin of their backs sliced free from the muscle and raised like wings.  "I've seen some messed up shit, but that is some _really_ messed up shit."

 

"Hooks were bored into the ceiling," Jack explained. "Fishing line was used to hold up the bodies."

 

"Least we know he's a fisherman," Beverly Katz observed from the side of the room, glancing at Will.

 

"Hey," Will said defensively, "don't look at me!"

 

Ignoring him, Beverly added, "I don't know if it was a good night's sleep, but he slept here.  Hair on the pillow and the sheets are still damp.  He's a sweater."

 

Still feeling targeted, Will got uppity. "I didn't do it, quit looking at me!"

 

Hannibal leaned close to Will and whispered, "Ms.Katz seems to suspect too much.  Want me to kill her?"

 

"No, I don't want you to kill her!" Will whispered back. "We discussed this already!  No killing Beverly this time around!"

 

Jack, having heard everything they'd "whispered", cleared his throat. He worried for Will's mental state.  "Who would do something like this?" he asked.

 

"Someone with cancer might," Will said, still working on the whole not-giving-away-too-much-information thing and failing.

 

"Cancer?" Jack asked. Turning to Hannibal, the only person in the room who actually finished medical school, he asked, "Is that true?"

 

"Certain cancer patients can exhibit symptoms that affect behavior," Hannibal said.  "Some might act in ways they normally would not, such as turning people into naked skin angels or insulting their host's foie gras."

 

"Ah, interesting," Jack was as oblivious as always.

 

Through the magic of editing and lazy fic writing, it was only a few hours later that all the FBI employees that we actually care about were gathered in the FBI morgue, watching as the science team analyzed the bodies from the hotel.

 

"Death makes angels of us all," Beverly waxed poetic, "and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens' claws."

 

"Robert Frost," Hannibal nodded, pretentiousness in full effect.

 

"Jim Morrison," Will corrected.

 

"Don't correct me, Will," Hannibal said.

 

"Our guy has a brain tumor," Zeller said, jumping way ahead in the scene.

 

===

 

Down in South Carolina, past!Hannibal and past!Will were sitting in the study that looked exactly like Hannibal's office in Baltimore.  Will was thumbing through one of Hannibal's many neurology books, hoping for an easy answer to his apparent sleep-walking.

 

"Maybe I should see a doctor," Will said finally.

 

"I'm a doctor," Hannibal pointed out.

 

"One that specializes in brain stuff," Will said.

 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, again fitting the description in a way.  "I've told you that there's nothing physically wrong with you, Will.  If anything, possibly a small amount of stress stemming from your current situation."

 

Will set the book aside with a small laugh. "You mean being held captive by someone I hardly know on the word of myself from the future," he said.  "Right."

 

"You are not a captive, Will," Hannibal reassured, "but I am here to help you."  It hadn't taken past!Hannibal long after whisking past!Will away with him to South Carolina to discover Will's impressive skills of empathy and hidden dark side.  It had taken even less time for him to decide that he wanted to exploit the crap out of it.

 

"The world is cruel," Hannibal said.  "The world is wicked.  It's I alone whom you can trust in this whole city.  I am your only friend."

 

Will laughed wryly, it's not like he had an opportunities to make other friends.

 

"I, who keep you, teach you," Hannibal continued, "feed you, dress you.  I, who look upon you without fear.  How can I protect you, boy, unless you always stay in here?"

 

"Away in here?" Will asked.

 

"Remember what I told you, Will. You have a dark side."

 

"I have a dark side?"

 

"And you are a killer."

 

"I am a killer?"

 

"And these are crimes for which the world shows little pity," Hannibal said.  "You do not comprehend."

 

"You are my one defender," Will admitted. He'd known for awhile of the growing disquiet inside him, the darkness and the need that he worked so hard to bury deep down.

 

"Out there, they'll revile you as a monster," Hannibal said.

 

"I _am_ a monster," Will said, ashamed of what he knew he was capable of.

 

"Out there, they will hate and scorn and jeer."

 

"Only a monster."

 

"Why invite their calumny and consternation?" Hannibal asked.  "Stay in here, be faithful to me."

 

"I am faithful."

 

"Grateful to me."

 

"I am grateful."

 

"Do as I say," Hannibal said.  "Obey and stay in here."

 

Will rose and moved to look out the window to the vast backyard of the house. "I'll stay in here," he said quietly, resigned.

 

===

 

"Here for another ride-along, Dr.Lecter?" Jack asked as he approached future!Hannibal and future!Will.  They were standing in a dimly lit alleyway, the body of a security guard with big nasty skin wings was mounted overhead.

 

Hannibal turned to face Jack as he approached.  "Oh, you know," he said, "professional curiosity."

 

"My wife said that she's been trying to reach you," Jack said with a frown, "but that you never answer her calls."

 

Hannibal unconsciously grabbed Will's arm.  Keeping his voice level, he asked, "Oh she has, has she?  I will have to check with my secretary."

 

"You said you don't have a secretary anymore," Jack pointed out.

 

"Oh, um, yes," Hannibal stuttered.  "Well, I...um...I hired a new one.  A new secretary.  I, uh...Will!"  He shoved Will in front of him.  "I hired Will to be my new secretary!"  He spun the younger man to face him and held up a scolding finger.  "Now, Will, what did I tell you about giving me my messages?  And here, poor Mrs.Crawford has been desperately trying to contact me!"

 

"Though I don't know why Bella would be trying to contact you," Jack mused, totally ignoring the absurd idea of Hannibal hiring Will as his secretary.  "It's not like she needs therapy, there's absolutely nothing wrong with her."

 

The conversation was interrupted by Brian Zeller picking up in his gloved hand what was obviously a severed nutsack.

 

"Are those?" Jimmy Price turned pale. "What are those?"

 

"A severed nutsack, obviously." Beverly Katz shined her flashlight up at the dead security guard.  "Doesn't look like they belonged to the victim."

 

Hannibal stepped forward.  "Ah, um, may I inquire what you're going to do with those after you catalog them?" he asked, gesturing to the bloody scrote hanging from Zeller's finger.

 

Will elbowed him in the side.

 

"What?" Hannibal asked in a low voice.  "They make an excellent soup."

 

Jack gazed up at the body above them. "How is he choosing his victims, Will?"

 

"I don't know," Will sighed. "Ask him."

 

"I'm asking you," Jack gave him a warning look.

 

"Yeah, well how about you ask _yo' momma_?"

 

Every single sound in the alley, even the natural ones, went deathly silent as steam LITERALLY spilled out of Jack's ears. "I didn't hear that," he seethed.

 

"He said WHY DON'T YOU ASK YO' MOMMA!" Hannibal repeated loudly and unhelpfully.

 

The rest of the trip was, needless to say, a little awkward.

 

===

 

Late the next day, Hannibal and Will sat opposite each other in Hannibal's office.  You'd almost think they were in the midst of a therapy session if you didn't already know that they were from the future, already knew everything going on, and were shagging like rabbits in between the scenes of this story.

 

Will tipped three Aspirin tablets out of a bottle into his hand and tossed them into his mouth, taking a long drink of water to wash them down.

 

"Rough night?" Hannibal asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

"I locked myself out on the roof of my house last night," Will said. "Ended up jumping off the top of the porch and practically breaking my legs in the bushes."

 

"Why were you on the roof?" Hannibal leaned back and folded his hands in his lap.

 

"I was looking for something in the attic and one of the smaller dogs managed to open the window out onto the porch," Will ran a hand across his face with a groan. "When I climbed out to get him, he ran back in and _somehow_ managed to shut the window and lock it."

 

"I see," Hannibal hummed.  "I can't help but feel that most of your problems, Will, would be alleviated by the simple act of moving in with me."

 

"I told you I won't abandon my dogs," Will said for the millionth time.

 

"So what you're telling me is that your dogs are more important to you than your life partner?" Hannibal asked the question that I just _know_ has been burning in all of your minds.

 

"No, that's not it at all-" Will started.

 

"What would you say if I told you that I've begun construction on an addition to my home that would be perfect for all of your four-legged flea bags?"

 

Will's eyes widened. "Hannibal...did you...are you really??"

 

Hannibal nodded with a smile.

 

Will's hands flew to his mouth and he let out a girlish squeal of excitement. He hobbled on his probably-at-least-fractured legs over to Hannibal's chair and threw himself into his lap.  "You're the bestest, Hanniboo!" he said, hugging him tight.

 

"It should be finished sometime in the next chapter," Hannibal explained.  "I thought that after you moved in and we were settled, we could throw a large dinner party and announce ourselves to everyone in celebration.  Maybe a couple chapters from now?"

 

"Sounds good," Will smiled. Remembering something he'd meant to tell Hannibal, he shifted in his place in the other man's lap (much to Hannibal's excitement, if you know what I mean) and pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket.  "Oh and Bella Crawford has called me twelve times in the past two days," Will said, handing the paper to Hannibal.  "Why did you have to tell everyone that I'm your secretary?"

 

Hannibal took the paper, looking properly sheepish.  "I'm sorry, I panicked."

 

"Why are you avoiding Jack's wife anyways?" Will asked.

 

"She's a scary woman!" Hannibal exclaimed.  "Don't you know that she _slapped_ me once?!  I didn't know whether to cry or bite her whole hand off right that moment!"

 

"Well, either way," Will said, "I'm curious to know how you're planning on paying me for my secretarial services."

 

Hannibal looked thoughtful for a moment.  "Hot dickings?"

 

"Works for me!"

 

===

 

Hot dickings were far from either man's mind (well, it was never that far from Hannibal's mind, let's be honest) as they sat in an interrogation room at the FBI Headquarters.  Jack Crawford sat on the other side of his desk, addressing Emma Budish, the wife of the man they believed to be the Angel Maker.

 

"Why did you leave him?" Jack asked her.

 

"He kept pulling away and pulling away," Mrs.Budish said quietly. "He made it clear he didn't want me there.  Kept insulting my cooking, despite everyone knowing that everything I make is the best."

 

Hannibal cleared his throat loudly.  "Sound familiar, Jack?" he asked, pointedly.

 

Jack sat back in his chair as a sudden realization washed over him. He looked directly at Will.  "You have cancer, Will?"

 

"What?" Will frowned. "No, not me!"

 

"Your wife, moron!" Hannibal practically shouted.  "For pete's sake, your wife has cancer!  How much more obvious could I make it?!"

 

"No," Jack continued his denial. "That's not true.  That's impossible."

 

"Search your feelings," Hannibal nodded.  "You know it to be true."

 

Jack fell to his knees next to his desk, fists clenched. "Nooooooo!!!" he wailed.

 

"Let's just give him a moment," Will said, turning back to Mrs.Budish. "Is there anywhere that you think your husband might return to?  A place where he may have had a near death experience, perhaps?  Wink wink?  Nudge nudge?"

 

Later that day, Jack had collected his thoughts enough to drive himself, with Hannibal and Will, out to the barn where Emma Budish said her husband might return. Sure enough, they found him dead and hanging from the rafters, having turned himself into one of his own nightmarish angels.

 

"Ok, this has always bugged me," Will said, gesturing at the man suspended above them. "How in the hell did he manage to do that to himself?  I mean, the logistics of how he got himself hanging in that exact position in that exact place is in no way possible for one man to do alone.  Let alone how he could possibly have skinned his own back?!  I had to buy a tiny hand on a stick just to _scratch_ my own back!  There's no way for him to have gotten up there and done that to himself without leaving behind the method he used to do it."  Will looked at the other two men questioningly.  "And we're really ok with just accepting he did this himself?  It makes no sense!"

 

Jack looked at Will sadly. "Look, Will," he said, "I know you've been having a lot of issues and mental problems.  I understand if you want to quit, but you need to realize how invaluable you are to us and how much we need you.  You've caught the last three."

 

"I didn't catch this one," Will pointed out. "He surrendered."

 

"Ouch, that stings, Will," Hannibal called from where he'd walked to the other side of the barn.

 

"If you want to quit, quit," Jack said, turning and exiting the barn to find the forensic team.

 

Will watched his quasi-former mentor go, still dumbfounded as to why everyone thought he was so unstable when he so obviously _wasn't_ unstable.

 

"I seeeeeeeee what you arrrrrrrre," a raspy voice said from behind him. He spun to face the voice and saw Hannibal had climbed up to the rafters and was moving Elliot Budish's jaw, pretending to talk through him.

 

Will laughed. "Oh?" he said.  "What do you see?"

 

"Insiiiiide," Hannibal continued using Budish like a puppet.  "I can brinnnnnng it out of youuuuuu."

 

"Not all the way out," Will said, cheekily.

 

"I can give you the maaaaaajesty of your Becoming," Hannibal/Budish proclaimed. Hannibal wiggled the dead man's arms like a spoooooky ghost.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been wondering if I should start leaving credit for the songs I bastardize for the sake of my fic. In this chapter, the exchange between past!Hannibal and past!Will in the study is the opening to the song "Out There" from "The Hunchback of Notre Dame". When you include the word "calumny" in the lyrics to a children's movie, it's no wonder it's not as popular as all the other Disney movies.
> 
> 03/17: As if it weren't painfully obvious, I stopped updating this crazy fic. Everything was going great, then life took over and I was unable to write for a couple months, and I've just never gotten back into the swing of it. I won't say that I'll never finish it (cause I REALLY want to, I have so many ideas!), but it may be awhile before I do. So sorry. :( orz If you like it, subscribe to the fic and who knows, maybe we'll both be surprised someday with a spontaneous update!


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